


Reunions

by Strain_of_the_Stress



Series: John Shepard [4]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 95,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strain_of_the_Stress/pseuds/Strain_of_the_Stress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always thought Tali's reunion scenes in ME3, especially if she was previously romanced, seemed a little rushed, like the game wanted to just get you back together with her as quickly as possible. Here's what I like to think is a bit more realistic, slow version as Shepard and Tali deal with their changing circumstances. Will definitely be adding more chapters later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1900, Forward Battery

Shepard pushed away from the tactical terminal which Garrus had set up inside the battery, nodding as he considered the plan. Since the Quarian Admirals had come aboard, he had found himself quite suddenly loaded with disputes between the Krogans and Turians, not to mention various questions from all of the Admirals that had made camp inside the war room, even a few urgent questions and advice-askings from The Council. In short: He hadn’t had time to comprise an assault plan. Luckily for him, though, he had an XO who was almost as combat proficient as he was, and he trusted with tactical decisions.

“That all looks good, Vakarian, let the rest of the team know the plan. I want you with Tali and I on point, tell Vega, Liara and Kaiden to stay on 5-minute stand-by. Is there anything else?”

Garrus turned the terminal off, pausing for a minute as he stopped to collect his thoughts, this was not a question to be asked without consideration.

“Yeah, Shepard, and I’m asking this as a friend. Are you alright?”

Shepard crossed his arms, leaning himself up against the gunnery terminal. To the outside observer, he was the image of skeptical coolness, legs crossed at the ankle, his right foot perpendicular to the floor, arms crossed casually over his chest, left eyebrow raised in confusion. But Garrus had learned his commander, his friend, on a bit of a deeper level than most, and the shifting eyes and tapping fingers, slight downwards slope of his right eyebrow speaking of hidden worry, a knowledge of the hard questions The Turian was about to ask.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Garrus. Why do you ask?”

“Shepard, come on. Tali’s back.”

“Yes, she is, it’s good to have her back on the team. What of it?”

Garrus lowered his head, giving Shepard a glower that said only “really?”, his mandibles pulled tightly against his face as he reclined against the tactical terminal, body language closely mirroring that of Shepard, though nobody could really say which learned the pose from which.

Shepard sighed, bringing his right hand to his face, resting his forehead in his hand. By the time he looked back at Garrus, resting his chin on his fist, the pain in his eyes was veritably palpable, but taking a whole different quality than the one that normally sat there. Garrus had seen Shepard look hurt because of a lost colony, had seen the despair as world after world succumbed to a threat which was more terribly massive in scope than any they had ever faced before and as he sat almost helpless to stop it. But this was a different  pain, a slightly more personal pain. If Garrus were more comfortable using the name, he might say that this was John’s and not Shepard’s pain, but all he knew was that this was heartbreak, not war.

“Yes, Garrus, she’s here. But I have no clue where we stand. I mean, you know we were together before my trial. But I haven’t had any contact with her since then, hell I didn’t even know if she was alive until yesterday. But the worst part is that frankly…” Garrus was mildly shocked: Shepard was clearly having trouble keeping it together, his voice breaking and lip clearly quivering, unlike any other time Garrus had seen him. “frankly I don’t know where we stand any more. I mean, I never expected some sweet reunion, running in slow motion into each other’s arms, romantic music in the back back ground, all that. But… I didn’t expect this.”

Shepard’s head bowed again, his hand opening to support his face again. Garrus stood from the terminal, nudging shepard over on his perch on the gunnery terminal. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Garrus, you know me. Tell me to command an N7 unit against impossible odds, and I’ll give you a speech about holding the line. Ask me to make peace with the Krogan and Turians, and I’ll find you the Mother of all Thresher Maws. But ask me to confront a friend, a girl even, about personal relationships and I run screaming in the other direction.”

Garrus continued staring straight ahead, both he and Shepard scrutinizing the door in front of them. This was territory neither of them were terribly familiar with, nor even comfortable; their field was that of battle not love or feelings. If it could be shot, the duo would find a way to shoot it. If it needed to be shot, they would do so. But this world of feelings and softness, things which had felt like weaknesses to the both of them for so long… it terrified them both.

“Shepard, you know I’ve barely got any experience to speak of here.” Garrus spoke, his voice devoid of any amount of sarcasm or joking, any banter or quips missing from his vocabulary entirely. “But it sounds to me like you just need to talk to her about it. Better to do that than just let it sit in the air.”

Shepard laughed slightly, a bitter chuckle. “We do have a tendency to face our issues head-on, don’t we?”

“Says the man who drove us, in a _Mako_ of all things, through a mass effect relay and the legally dead vigilante who took on every merc on Omega.”

Shepard stood, his hands dropping to his sides as he took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled it slowly through his mouth, an action Garrus had seen him use before. _Usually before a large battle, ironically, but then again I think this is more scary to him than running under a Reaper ever was._

“You’re right, Garrus.” Again, the bitter laugh, but this time with a dash of confidence, and maybe even the slightest pinch of potent hope. “I just need to get off my ass and ask her.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

Garrus was answered by the sound of the battery doors closing.

1930 Hours, Deck 1

“So if you’re ever lonely… just let me know.”

Shepard paused, looking at Tali as she finished her statement. The past two minutes he had been trying to work up the courage to talk to her, to ask her the questions he really wanted, needed to. It had been two minutes of awkward comments and statements which always sounded better in his head, internal cringing with his stomach lodged constantly in his throat. He knew Tali had been under stress, but when she came up it became apparent that she needed reassuring words more than anything else, and while he had almost fallen into a routine which he didn’t know whether to consider a pipedream and discard or hold onto like a dream that might yet happen, he liked to think that he had said the right things. But it seemed time now. _Well, she’s not going to hand me a better opportunity than this._

“Tali… have you got a minute to talk?”

Tali paused, startled by the change in Shepard’s voice. Just a minute ago he had sounded his typical confident self, or maybe just the typical confident Commander, a man who would take on the world with utter confidence, and good reason for it. But with that last statement, the soft voice and hunched shoulders, the head turned away and the voice breaking, he suddenly just sounded so… small.

John watched as she got on her omnitool, tapping a few things on it before looking back at him.

“If you can give me some sort of data that looks like we’re talking about the Dreadnought when we’re done, then yes, Shepard. I’d like that, actually.”

John gestured towards the couch, the both of them walking and sitting on opposite legs, facing towards each other, Tali looking at Shepard, but Shepard staring straight ahead. She couldn’t quite figure out the expression that was in his face as he hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and letting them support all his weight, his hands pointing straight out from them and his gaze unblinkingly unfocused on nothing straight ahead. He licked his lips, closed his eyes, and then began to speak.

“Tali, you know I’m not good at this stuff. I’ve never had much of a head for personal talks and have tended to avoid them as much as possible. I think it’s a defense mechanism since I feel so uncomfortable having to deal with my emotions and I avoid them a lot, so I’ve become bad at talking about them which makes me even more nervous when I do so. But this isn’t something I’m terribly good at, but I think it’s a talk we need to have, and I had hoped you’d be okay with it but you usually seem to know what you’re saying and…”

“Shepard.”

“… and I just want to make sure I get this right. But I also didn’t want to bother you with it since I know you’re an admiral now and…”

“ _Shepard.”_

“… and you’ve got bigger things to deal with than me and I know I shouldn’t really be bringing this up now of all times…”

“JOHN.”

Shepard stopped, seeming to be pulled from a trance as he blinked and looked at Tali, his eyebrows raising in an intensification of that expression she still couldn’t place; at least not until he closed his lips, their quivering clearly trying to hold back something. That’s when she realized: _He’s scared. Keelah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this terrified._

“John, Shepard, you’re babbling.”

John smiled thinly, a slight curve to the outside of his lips as he closed his eyes, clearly seeing the mild irony in what just happened.

“Let me try that again. Tali, what we had before my trial was… well, it was one of the best and happiest things I’ve had in my life. I had, have, never felt so at ease, so…. Well happy.”

Tali stayed quiet while John stopped to think, again breathing in through is nose and out through his mouth while he tried to collect his thoughts. _I really am terrible at this. Come on, John, you can’t stop now. You know what you want to say. Now just say it._

 _“_ After the trial, they took away all my contact with the outside world. I wasn’t even allowed my omnitool for the first couple of months, not to mention messages. It hurt, goodness did it hurt. But while I didn’t like not being able to stay in contact with the rest of the crew, it was…” John paused, his voice cracking at the end, closing his eyes while he tried to fight his tears. He wished he could just touch Tali’s hand, reach for support because, if there was anywhere in this galaxy he needed it, it was here. But he also knew that he couldn’t, at least not until he finished this conversation, figured out where they stood. “Not being able to reach you was impossibly hard. I have never felt so wholly alone as when I wasn’t able to talk to you. And then The War starts, and I tried to send you a message but The Migrant Fleet had all but disappeared, and then the thing with The Krogan…”

John stopped again, trying to collect his thoughts, knowing he was getting off track. Suddenly he felt a gloved pressure over his clasped hands, and looked up to see Tali looking straight at  him, her head tilted and eyes curved in what he suspected was a sad smile and look of condolence. She had moved closer to him on her side of the couch, leaned forwards and was resting a hand on his. That point of contact, that feeling of touch, became John’s pillar of strength, a man who was so strong against the terrors of war and the fears of a galaxy but felled by his own emotions latched onto that one gesture, a feeling of determination sweeping through him.

John fixed his eyes onto Tali’s letting his world focus down to those two points of beautiful light in front of him. His heart was beating faster than he thought he could ever survive, and he could feel his fear trying to cloud his thoughts. But the hand on his and the face in front of his fought the fog away, helped him to keep himself present, became his light in the mist. With a cracking voice, and moist eyes that blinked rapidly to prevent tears from falling, he pushed on.

“Tali, I won’t hide this: I love you, just as deeply and much as I did before I was locked away. Just having you with me makes me feel the most comfortable I ever have, and the time we have spent together has been one of the best things to happen to my life. But I also can’t pretend that things haven’t changed. You’re an admiral now, and I’m apparently supposed to save the galaxy. I don’t think I could ever stop loving you, but if you have moved on, if you don’t want me anymore…” John paused, his breath coming in a gasp which threatened on a sob, Tali’s hand squeezing his. He bowed his head, eyes fixated on the deck plating beneath his feet. “If you don’t want me anymore, I will absolutely respect that, and you won’t hear a word about it from me again.”

Tali stared at John, still reading the look on his face. She had seen him vulnerable, heard some of the fears and insecurities he carried but would never admit to anyone but her before his trial, but she had never seen John Shepard this open, vulnerable.

“John…” she started, snapping his head to her quickly, his eyes screaming of deep-set fears and closely held hopes.

“John, I want nothing more than to say yes to you. Believe me when I say I just want to stay here and tell you it will be alright until the stars turn to dust around us. But you’re right, I’m an Admiral now, and I have new responsibilities to my people.”

John’s head turned back to the floor, tears no longer being held back as they began to run slowly, silently down his cheeks. Tali’s second hand found his chin, turning his eyes back to hers.

“My people, John, they’re wary of other species. We’ve been treated like second class citizens for so long, been floating among the stars without a home for so many generations, that they don’t trust anybody but ourselves. I hope that will change, I hope we can be a force to change that, John, but right now we’re at war, a war which will either give us back our homeworld or destroy us for good. I’m a leader, they need to see me stand with them beyond any doubt, and I’m afraid they won’t see that if I’m with you again.”

A soft sob pushed through John’s tightly pursed lips as he held back what she suspected to be a furious storm of emotions, his tears coming faster and dripping onto the deck plating with normally soft but now so loud drops. Tali stroked the side of his face with her hand, angling her head the other way as he closed his eyes and angled into the gesture.

“If we make it through this John, then I will want nothing more than to call you mine again, I want nothing more than to do so here. But until then, I have to be The Admiral my people need me to be: strong, independent, Quarian.”

John opened his mouth once, closing it again to fight another outburst back. Again came the breath in through his nose, and again it came out through his mouth, until he could open his eyes, his glossy-wet windows speaking of acceptance and understanding.

“If it takes us making it through this, Tali, then I guess I better get you a homeworld.”

Tali and John both laugh a little bit, both bitter with denied needs and a galaxy imbued with war and death. Tali’s hands retreated back to her own space, and John began to sit up more.

John started speaking again.

“I understand what you’re saying, Tali. If I were in your place, I might even say the same thing. I don’t like it” John reached up and wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, clearly regaining control over himself again “but I understand and respect it. Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that, Shepard?”

John cringed slightly as Tali used his Surname, but reminded himselfof why – _You know she wants to be back together as much as you do… First Names might be a bit too familiar, too risky._

“Just promise me that, if we do make it through this, you won't forget about... us?”

Tali stood, stepping out from around the table to stand directly in front of John.  “Never.”

Tali went to walk out before John called out behind her “Will you…” he faltered, stopping to look away, still considering what he was going to say. She stopped, about five feet from the door, turning around to face him. “Will you have dinner with me? There are… some aspects of The Dreadnought I’d like to go over with you again, I also wouldn’t mind getting to catch up a bit. You know… as” John smiled, the first time he’d seemed to have done so, genuinely, since Tali came aboard “friends?”

Tali paused, leaving John hanging in a terrible purgatory as she thought about it.

“I’d like that, yes.” She looked at her omnitool “2100? It’s a little late, but I have to get some information to The Admiralty.”

John smiled further as he stood, continuing to wipe his eyes and face.

“2100 works for me. It’s a date.”

Tali cocked her head, putting her hands on her hips. She knew what he meant, but even now she still enjoyed, to a certain extent, watching the great Commander Shepard stumble over words. _At least, harmless words._

“Err, you know, as friends. Or coworkers. A coworker date. Coworker friend date. I didn’t mean… not like that… I…”

“2100 Shepard, you’re buying.”

John stopped, bowing his head momentarily before looking back at her and smiling. 


	2. Forced Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After deciding that things can't go back to the way they are, Shepard and Tali struggle to maintain the distance Tali said they needed to keep.

0700 Hours, Forward Battery

“Vakarian, could you join Tali and I in the war room, there are a few aspects of The Dreadnought that I’d like to go over.”

Garrus stopped what he was doing, his typing on the tactical console pausing, his simulation saving automatically. “On my way, Shepard.” He turned to double-check the troop strengths he had worked in were accurate, that the terrain he was working on was thus far a good model, and then closed the terminal, securing it before he walked out.

Within minutes, Garrus was in the war room, seeing Tali and Shepard standing on opposite sides of the holographic display, a spinning model of the Geth Dreadnought floating between the projectors. Two crewmembers walked by, turning sideways to fit through the door around Garrus. “Good Morning, Sir!” came the chorus of greetings, a custom Turians had done away with on their operational ships not long after the Unification Wars, but which Garrus tolerated under the pretense of a human crew. “Good Morning.” came his automatic reply as he came down the stairs, coming to the lip of the holographic display and looking first to Shepard, and then to Tali.

Both had their heads bowed, seeming to be intently focused on the terminals in front of them, but stealing the occasional glance towards the other. Shepard had told Garrus of his and Tali’s conversation, of their agreement to be just friends until this war was past and the gratifying, if not slightly awkward, dinner afterwards. Thus it came as no surprise to Garrus that the two were actively trying to not fall into their old habits when not discussing business matters. _Spirits know, those two fit together well enough that this must be just about impossible for them._

Shepard was the first to acknowledge Garrus, closing down his work terminal, stealing a glance to Tali, who was locking her terminal and was about to look up, before swiveling to meet Garrus’ eye.

“Vakarian, thanks for coming so quickly. You wouldn’t happen to know why we can’t seem to save civilization without fighting The Geth at least once, would you?”

Garrus chuckled, knowing that to be all true a statement. There was even some hope during The Collector mission that flashlights would be nowhere on their list of “things that need bullets”, but then, of course, Legion had to ask to deal with some “heretic geth”.

“You know, Shepard, I’ve been asking myself the same question. Getting real tired of shooting lightbulbs.”

Tali took this opportunity to chime in, having appropriately secured her terminal and now looking at Garrus.

“You could always borrow my shotgun, if you’d like. It’s a bit more fun.”

“Thanks, Tali, but I think I like my sniper rifle. Something about being a couple hundred meters away just makes me feel safer.”

“How come you never offer me your shotgun?”

Tali and Garrus both turned their heads to look at Shepard, a trademark grin on his face initially, remaining for a moment until his brain caught up with his mouth, and his terminal became suddenly remarkably interesting.

“You never asked.”  Came the remarkably flirtatious response, causing this time Shepard and Garrus’ heads to look at Tali, both tilting with a little bit of confusion, as her terminal became equally interesting as Shepard’s had. Shepard’s mouth curled up in the right side, his eyes darting from left to right, an expression Garrus had associated with attempts to deal with awkward situations, and his terminal again became exceptionally interesting.

The war room became silent except for omnipresent low chatter, the occasional alert of a terminal punctuating the silence.

Garrus cleared his throat.

“So, this dreadnought.”

Both Shepard and Tali’s heads sprung immediately towards his, clearly eager to clear the previous parts of the conversation from the air. Tali spoke first.

“Yes. I’ve been doing some research with Admiral Xen, and what we’ve basically come up with is that, well, their shielding is impressive.”

Garrus leaned back, laughing, crossing his arms.

“So, what you’re saying is, we won’t know much until we get inside.”

This time Shepard jumped in, tapping on his terminal to highlight a portion of the dreadnought.

“Not entirely, Vakarian. Originally, your plan called for a hard-insertion, cutting into one of the exposed portions of the ship before we worked our way farther inside.”

Garrus nodded, angling his head slightly, knowing there was a change coming soon. _Sixteen hours out, and of course there has to be a change of plans._

“Well, that doesn’t look like it will be necessary anymore. Most recent bits of Quarian intel indicated that there was a docking tube damaged in one of their firefights, leaving it entirely extended. It’s a little risky, but I think less so than the three of us dangling on the hull of an enemy ship in the middle of a firefight.”

Garrus looked at the diagram, a miniscule part on the outside of the dreadnought being highlighted in red. He looked to the terminal in front of him, asking it to zoom in, being greeted by a view of a heavily damaged, pockmarked, and disintegrated docking tube.

“Shepard, that still looks pretty dicey, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Well, actually, that’s what we wanted to discuss with you. Do you have any ideas on how to make this more feasible? Because, frankly, I’d rather use a pre-determined docking tube than try and land on the hull. Turns out it’s a non-ferrous metal, our mag-boots would be useless.”

“And in the docking tube?”

Tali, this time.

“The docking tube is lined on the inside with highly ferrous materials, our magboots would be highly effective.” Seeing Garrus’ tilted head in confusion, she elaborated. “The Geth operate primarily in orbit, and it’s challenging, to say the least, to put grav plating in a docking tube – too much interference with the other ship’s gravity field. So, we think they do most of their ship-to-ship transfers using magnetic harnessing.”

Shepard paused, head angling up and mouth hanging slightly open, eyes again darting back and forth. _That’s not good. That’s the look he gets when he…_

“Tali, I’ve had an idea.”

“What, Shepard?”

“The Normandy has some highly-specialized mass-effect field emitters, right? To accommodate the unusual shape of the ship?”

“That’s right…”

“What if we projected a mass-effect field around the docking tube. It would increase the mass and make the entire thing require more impulse to move. Weight wouldn’t be a problem, since we’re outside of orbital altitude, but the entire thing would require much more momentum to move.”

Tali tilted her head downwards and to the left, shadows of calculations flitting across her eyes as she considered the idea. After about ten seconds, she looked back at Shepard.

“That… That could work. But what about us, our mass would be increased too, it’d take a monumental effort just to move our foot forwards.”

“Not if we modified our weapons’ mass effect field generators, powering them with our Hardsuit’s battery and extending the field around out bodies.”

Tali’s head tilted, clearly not familiar with the operation. Shepard looked up crossing his arms as he solidified the thought in his head.

“I saw an N7 do something like this back in ICT. It was a space-drop training mission, but he was falling too quickly. So, he wired his rifle up to his armor’s battery and created a mass effect field around him, reducing his mass and allowing him to slow his descent. He blew out his assault rifle in the process, but if we’re not doing it while falling through an ionosphere, it should work.”

Tali gasped, head straightening out and body seeming to jump as another idea occurred.

“And if we could increase the computing capacity of our suits…”

Shepard didn’t even finish the sentence, jumping to the next thought the both of them were having, excitement plastered all over his face.

“We’d have to increase the memory too, but if we…”

“To the auxiliary life-support RAM?”

“I was thinking patch in the auxiliary communications’ VI…”

“That would be good, we’d have to transfer the protocols to another…”

“But if we daisy-chained one of the targeting VI’s, their processing architecture is similar.”

They both paused, just about jump with excitement, before both starting to talk at the same time.

“Shepard, you’re…”

“Tali, have I told you how…”

Both stopped, looking down at the space between them. Neither of them had realized it, much to Garrus’ amusement, but as they had been talking they had both been taking steps towards each other, each revelation shrinking the distance between them by a step until they were not even ten centimeters apart. As they realized this, they both took a hasty step back, Shepard scratching the back of his neck, Tali wringing her hands together, both clearing their throats.

Again, silence dominated the meeting, even the low-hum of the constant activity seeming to melt away.

Garrus smiled as both Shepard and Tali stood there, trying not to acknowledge what happened. He knew he shouldn’t take as much amusement from the situation as he did, Tali trying her hardest to be the admiral they needed her to be, Shepard doing everything he could to respect that. But there was something about watching the two, the Quarian Admiral leading a war to reclaim The Homeworld and The Council Spectre fighting to save the galaxy, be reduced to acting like awkward adolescents. _Should have been recording…_

Suddenly, Shepard broke the silence, making a hasty retreat from the display while he spoke.

“I’m going to go mod our weapons.”

Tali stood there, watching blankly as Shepard exited, soon after making a similar move.

“I’ll talk to Adams, get the Drive Core ready.”

As the two exited, Garrus just stood there, still looking at the holographic projection. He turned his head, calling after his friends.

“No, it’s alright. No need to tell the third member of our team what’s happening…”

_Well, hopefully I can get something out of them individually…_

2330 Hours, Geth Dreadnought

As per usual, Shepard and Tali’s plan had worked to a point, but not perfectly, and certainly not to completion. Their modifications to the Drive Core had worked, keeping the docking tube in place for at least Shepard to get across, the tube proving more damaged than scans had initially indicated, causing it to be deemed “Too risky for the entire team”. After a little bit of banter, something about Turian Chocolates and Doctor Michel, Shepard had made it across. Joker had gotten nervous about how close The Normandy was, Tali checked in (an action Shepard liked to think was concern for him, but ultimately convinced himself it was just about the mass effect fields they were using), and right as Shepard made it across The Dreadnought had changed firing angle, shearing the docking tube off. After making his way around the “Tiny Hole” that had been punched in the side, and unlocking the other docking tube, he was rejoined by Garrus and Tali.

_He just soloed a risky, torn-up docking tube, to save my fleet. I should thank him. Can’t be too serious, but I should at least say something._

“Thank you for having me over.”

_Dammit, that was a little flirtatious wasn’t it? I should have just gone with “Thanks for getting us access” or “Thanks for risking the docking tube.” Or…_

“Well, I don’t actually know where I’m going.”

_Did he just… alright, seemed harmless enough. Just friends, remember, Tali, just friends._

“Hmm, I’ll see what I can do.”

_Keelah, that was even worse, wasn’t. it. Alright, just, get out of the conversation, somehow. Show him the new pistol, that’s a good escape route._

“In the mean-time, take a look at this.

Their progression through the Geth that had started to attack them was, while not necessarily easy, most certainly practiced. The three fell into a rhythm that had been perfected through countless battles and years of fighting. A few hits were scored on each of them, and Garrus kept on complaining about the scorch marks on his new Terminus armor from one of the pyros (to which Shepard had, so kindly, replied “Vakarian, it’s already grey. You can’t even see the difference.”. Garrus was not quite so amused). Eventually, after discovering the set-backs that couldn’t be accounted for with the lack of effectiveness of their shielding, they set out for the main-battery, hoping to gain a way through the middle of the ship to the transmission site.

_Alright, Tali, try it again. Just thank him for what he’s doing, but sincerely this time. Don’t try and be sarcastic._

“I appreciate what you’re doing here, Shepard.”

This time, though, Shepard’s response came with a bit more, thought.

_Last time, you just tried to play funny, and that went completely sideways. Okay, John, just tell her honestly that you’re not doing this just for her, that you do, actually, care deeply about the Quarian people. Hell, just say that._

“Well, I care deeply about the Quarian People.”

_Dammit. Always comes out sarcastic when I’m nervous. Bit me in the butt at boot camp, now it’s biting me again. Just play cool, don’t say anything else… maybe she didn’t hear…_

“It’s good to be back on the Normandy.”

_Wait, was that sarcasm? I couldn’t tell. Maybe I need to show some concern, you know, about her. I don’t know, should I? Well, it’s worth a try, right? What do I say, though, should it be something about her weapons, her terminal access, the war room.. Wait! I’ve got it!_

“Let me know if it’s too quiet for you to sleep, and I’ll find you someplace louder.”

_Wow. John, just… wow. Couldn’t have said it worse._

Shepard heard a ping in his helmet, a private channel from Garrus.

“Shepard, are you trying to play this smooth? Not saying you’re not hitting the mark, but, well, if what you said about yours and Tali’s conversation was anything to go off of, you’re doing a terrible job.”

“Shut it, Vakarian.”

“Hmmm…”

Another ping.

“I am not to be held responsible for my actions here…”

“Vakarian! Garrus! I don’t know what you’re going to do, but…”

“Uh, I was there when you two had your thing, remember, just get a room and work it out.”

Shepard fumed inside his helmet, his face turning a brilliant red he was glad couldn’t be seen with his helmet and the low lighting in the dreadnought.

“Tali, scout ahead and see if there are any tech obstacles ahead?”

“R..right, yeah. Got it.” Shepard hoped what he heard was nervousness like he was feeling. _Well, at least if we’re biffing this, we can be biffing it together._

As she ran ahead, Tali thought she heard the sound of a fist impacting armor, following by a faint, laughing “What was that for?!” from Garrus… but she dismissed it, pushing forwards.

The Dreadnought felt labyrinthine in design, not only clearly not designed for organics but also with little thought towards corridor navigation. Wave after wave of Geth kept on attacking, falling from their docked positions on the ceiling, causing Shepard to think of how Tali had approximated the mobile platforms inside the ship before the mission. “Like antibodies, smaller celled portions of the ship, mobile in nature and designed to fight off intruders”. It wasn’t an inaccurate description.

They fought their way through, eventually finding Legion, an unexpected encounter, but not entirely unwelcome, goodness knows they had few enough allies in this war. That was far from the end of it, though, The Quarian fleet soon firing on the dreadnought after the weapons were disabled.

As another shotgun blast sunk itself into a hunter, the platform whining as its servos failed and the programs inside downloaded back into the Dreadnought’s serveres, Tali  heard a ping inside of her helmet, a channel from Shepard.

“Tali, did you know _anything_ about this?”

She cringed as he heard his voice, no accusation in it, but seething anger barely contained. She knew John… Shepard, hated the idea of friendly fire, believing there is always a better way. What other Commanders saw as collateral damage he saw as useless waste of life, what was prescribed throughout the history books as “necessary tactical risks” he saw as the reckless unwillingness of inept officers to find a better way.

“Shepard, I knew as much about this as you did.”

“I’m about _this_ close” she heard a pause as the report of his Valiant came over his speakers, a geth trooper’s head exploding besides her “to just punching Gerrel in the gut as soon as I get back to the ship.”

“Only” Shepard, this time, heard a pause as a blast from her shotgun disintegrated a trooper rushing at his position “if you let me” another blast “take a swing first.”

“I might be able to” another report, this time the tank of a pyro began flaming “arrange that” the tank exploded, showering the area with debris. “but only if you let me borrow your shotgun.”

Tali could hear the grin in Shepard’s speech, a slight twinge to his speech bringing back memories of old times and practiced battlefield banter – a favorite past-time for both.

“Hmm, and what will you give me in return?”

This time, a report came from Garrus’ cover, causing an indignant “That was my kill!” to come over the group channel, causing Garrus to laugh. “Then you should have shot it, Shepard? What’s wrong, slowing down in your old age?”

Three successive shots from Shepard’s position caused three more troopers to collapse to the ground, decapitated without even time to whirr in failure.

“You wish, Vakarian.”

Again, the ping in Tali’s ear, the channel opening back up again.

“I thought I already said, Tali, you get to take the first swing at Gerrel?”

More fire came from all three team-mates, decimating the most recent wave of Geth as they rushed towards the squad, a quick “Move up!” coming from Commander Shepard.

“And what if I don’t think that’s enough, Shepard? I mean, it _my_ shotgun you’re asking for.”

There was a pause, not punctuated by weapons blasts or grunts from melee attacks, a blank pause in the conversation as the group sprinted forwards.

The voice that came over the comms again was softer, a tinge of sadness coming through the undertones of firm, but not harsh, resolve. This was John, not Commander Shepard.

“Tali, I think we both know where this could go, and I’ve already made my thoughts on the matter clear.” A pause as he switched to his Valkyrie, the rapid fire dropping a Hunter’s cloak that was next to Tali, her shotgun soon finding its mark in the platform’s chest. “So, for the sake of the respect I said I’d give what you” another pause as a trooper fell to Shepard’s assault rifle “said, I’ll just let you have the first swing.”

Tali, paused, considering what she had just heard as she switched to her pistol, felling a hunger under her Arc Pistol.

“Deal Shepard.”

She heard the channel close, followed quickly by a harsh yell of “Move up!”, coming this time from Commander Shepard, not the John Shepard she had just been talking to. As she ran, Tali considered what had just been said, the respect he paid her and her decisions even when she had handed him the best opportunity to refute it she could think of (though whether that was intentional or not, she couldn’t decide). _I said I’d do more than consider it after this war was over._ Another Shotgun blast to another drone, her movements so practiced she barely noticed the kill as she slid into cover, hacking an unshielded trooper.

_I’ll be damned if this war goes on any longer than it needs to._

2600 Hours, Deck 1

Shepard sat at his desk, the sounds of key presses and coffee sips punctuating the drone that substituted silence on a warship as he finished his report to Hackett on their Dreadnought operation. It was standard procedure enough, post-op reports a facet of every Alliance operation, strike, movement; the old joke among soldiers being the PBMR – Post Bowel Movement Report. And yet, Shepard found himself distracted, unusually so, having trouble focusing on his sentences and statements, his mind traitorously re-playing only specific aspects of the mission, those in which the battlefield banter had felt so close to what it had been before he had been locked up, in which his team was at risk, in which a specific member was at risk.

As he put the last statement into the terminal, he sat back and sighed heavily, in and out through his mouth, trying not so much to clear his mind as just to clear it of all things but those he needed to work on. He had a war to fight, a job to do, he couldn’t afford this level of distraction, the lives that depended on it couldn’t afford it. He had to be strong, resilient, the adhesive force between unlikely alliances and tenuous forces, he had to stand at the head of a terrified galaxy and call them over the top towards the greatest threat to sentient live ever conceived; he could not be an emotional man distracted by his own ailing heart.

As he turned back to his terminal, about to re-read his last paragraph, the door chime sounded.

“Come in.”

He grimaced internally as the door opened, a purple visor and beautiful shawl greeting him as they walked timidly into the room. He fought to maintain control of his face, his body becoming slightly more rigid, his face locking in to the implacid Commander face he had practiced for so long. _God, this is too hard, the last thing I need. Keep it polite, keep it professional. Anything else and you might just go to bits._

“Shepard, here’s the report you asked me to complete. I caught Garrus on the way up, his is in there too.”

Shepard stood, taking a step towards Tali but keeping himself outside of arms-reach, looking at and subsequently taking the offered datapad from her hands, avoiding her eyes completely as he opened it and scanned the contents. Quickly, he sat back in his chair, placing the pad on his desk and transferring its contents to his terminal.

“Thanks, Admiral. Is there anything else?”

Silence, or the closest thing, again came over the cabin as Tali stood there, examining Shepard as he remained wholly focused on his terminal, his eyes locked on its screen but his hands barely touching the extended interface. She had known him well enough to see the locked jaw, the unmoving eyes, the carefully straight line of his mouth to recognize his mask, the emotionless shield he put up when he didn’t think he could maintain his professionalism.

Quickly, suddenly, Shepard turned his chair towards Tali, his face remaining the same stoic mask except for his eyes, which held a heart-breaking combination of sadness and frustration, hurt even, as he accosted her with an unusually aggressive bur barely contained voice.

“Admiral, will that be all?”

Tali stood her ground, mild annoyance boiling up inside her as she heard his frustration. _Doesn’t he realize I want “us” as much as he does? It’s not like I’m saying no because I want to, Ancestors there’s nothing I want less._

“Shepard, what’s up? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, _Admiral_ , I just was wondering if there is anything else you needed of me?”

Shepard put especial emphasis on Tali’s rank, hoping it would help to keep himself in line. _You would never speak to an Alliance Admiral about anything except business, maybe reminding yourself of that will keep you in line._ Sadly, it was not taken that way by the quickly angering Quarian in front of him.

“Okay, no. You’re not. Shepard, you’re pissed. I come up here to deliver a report, and suddenly I become ‘Admiral’? You don’t do that Shepard, not to me, not to Garrus, not to anybody, unless he’s become ‘Advisor Vakarian’ now. What’s up?”

Shepard stood, frustration clear in his body language, turning and placing his hands on his desk, breathing heavy and heart beating in his ears, head bowed and eyes closed.

“Admiral… Tali, it’s nothing you need to get involved in.”

Tali could feel her own frustration rising, boiling in the pit of her stomach as it approached anger. The past few days had been just as challenging for her as they had been for Shepard, the call between the man she had come to love ardently and the duty she took so seriously thinning her beyond her normal equilibrium, every annoyance and anger compounding over the days until they were pushing on her mind, threatening to boil over.

“Why? Because I haven’t been with you since Earth? Shepard, I would have come but I had to stay with my people. I’d expect you, of all people, to understand that.”

Shepard went suddenly still, his breathing the only moving aspect of his body, his hands tightening to fists as his own self-frustration threatened to be unleashed at the last person he would ever target.

“No, Tali. I know that, I understand it. I…”

Tali interrupted him, her own annoyance with the cruelty of circumstance, circumstance she never asked for, over riding her usually patient personality.

“Then for Ancestors’ Wisdom, Shepard, what is it?”

Shepard turned to her, his eyes moist but his face frustrated rather than the terrified grief it had been last time she had seen him anything like this. His voice came out louder than normal, anger and frustration clear in the louder syllables and the pursed lips between sentences.

“I’m trying, Tali. God I’m trying but I don’t think anything has ever been this hard. It feels like I’m fighting myself and it’s a battle I just can’t win.”

Tali took a step back, startled by the outburst, confused as to what he was talking about. Shepard continued.

“Worse than that, Tali, it’s affecting my duties. I’m distracted, not thinking straight, losing sleep and getting it fitfully when I manage.”

Understanding bloomed on Tali’s face as she realized what he was talking about, replaced quickly by annoyance, stress unstated and unacknowledged by anybody but her until now. Her voice raised to reach his.

“And you don’t think I feel the same way, Shepard? Keelah, it’s not like I want this, not like I want to find myself struggling to keep my mind on simple tasks and distracted when I do! You’re not the only one struggling in this, and it’s even my call! The number of times I’ve tried to talk myself out of it, tried to give you the opportunities to slip back into where we were before… you’re not the only one having to work through this, Shepard! How frustrated do you think I am, trying to do what I know the fleet needs me to do and getting torn up inside?! ”

By the end she was yelling, full forced and with all the fury of her built frustration from the past few days, tears silently coming down her face, hidden from Shepard through the mask though it was clear his own were fighting to get past his eyelids. She had turned around, gesturing to the fish during her out-break, turning back to find Shepard sitting in his chair, head bowed again, elbows on his knees. His next statement was quiet, her audio microphones struggling to pick it up.

“I know, Tali… I know.”

Tali took a step back, backing herself up against the fishtank, sliding until she was sitting on the ground in front of it, cupping her visor in her right hand, chest heaving softly as she cried as quietly as she could inside her helmet, her anger worked out in that single outburst to give way to the struggle and grief that had fueled it.

“Keelah, Shepard, John, I don’t think I can keep doing this. All I want to do is find you, talk to you, just put things back the way they were. I thought I was barely holding together when I was first given my spot on the Admiralty board…. 17 million lives suddenly affected by every decision I made. I wonder if I’m not falling apart with this too.”

John stood up, sitting next to Tali, not touching her but following her stare to the models he had on the opposite wall. Her head turned, watching his as his gaze stayed straight, his face just looking… tired.

“When you said this was the way it had to be until this war was over, I hated the decision. I agreed with it, still do – I think it’s the right call for what your people need to see in a member of their leadership, especially after the instability I’ve seen in the other Admirals. But I never thought it wad be this hard. I kept telling myself ‘Don’t worry, John, it’s only a couple days. Afterwards you can figure this out better, put things right.’ Guess I didn’t anticipate just how much I need you, Tali.”

John’s hands had come to rest on the top of his thighs as he sat down, splayed flat over his pants and resting there, a habit taught him by his mother, something about not fiddling. Silence permeated the cabin as the two sat, the previous statements sitting heavily in the air as they both stared straight ahead.

Shepard felt his hand taken off of his left leg, a gloved hand slipping inside of it.

“I need you too, John. Ancestors’ I need you.”

John turned towards her, face as serious as it had ever been, his voice earnest and emotive, no word without meeting, without intense emotion and heartfelt sincerity.

“We’ll get you Rannoch, Tali. Soon. I promise.”

She squeezed his hand in response, the two staring straight ahead again, leaving their hands tangled in each other, neither one rushing to leave the comfort they had found in the foot between them breached by their clutching hands, both holding onto the other, even temporarily, for strength. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... last part of this chapter was slightly heart breaking to write. I'm not terribly good at interpersonal conflict in real-life, so I hope it came out alright. I wanted to keep the Dreadnought conversation, since that's some of my favorite dialogue from the entire romance, but in this context it needed a different explanation. Please, tell me what you think!


	3. This Ends Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle finds its way to Rannoch.

1700 Hours, Normandy Crew Deck

“There, that should take care of your problems, Liara.”

Tali slid out from behind the myriad of displays The Shadow Broker had set-up in her cabin, strapping her tools back into place in her tool-belt and taking a cleaning cloth quickly to her hands. Liara stood directly across from her, arms crossed across her body, face written with mild worry and anticipation.

“If I may, Tali, what was the problem? Glyph and I had been trying to figure out for some time.”

Tali turned her back on Liara, accessing the operating system through the terminal behind her, causing the screens to erupt in quick lines of colored code, rife with long directory names and command statements that made Liara’s head spin, even more so with the rapidity with which Tali was combing through them, all nine of the center screens displaying different operations. _Goddess, how she ever keeps track of all those…_

“It wasn’t too hard, really, but I doubt you would have caught it without coming to an engineering crewmember. We’ve been running upgrades on the external communications which has sped up the receive/send speed of all our transmissions, reducing the flash-traffic time to make us harder to find, even when we’re not running quiet. Your systems piggy-back on our signals, transmitting on a minute offset that only specific receivers can decode, appearing to be just static to anybody else. When we increased our transmit time, your encryption program wasn’t prepared and crashed when it couldn’t piggy back the signal. All I had to do was update its time index. I’m just running some final checks on the system and…” a few key-taps sounded, followed by an almost pleased-sounding chirping emitting from the terminal. “There, you’re back in business. EDI, do those modifications appear to work with Traynor and Adams’ upgrades?”

“They do, Tali. In fact, it would appear that you have reduced the offset to 0.056 nanoseconds, further reducing the amount of interference and increasing Doctor T’Soni’s chance at remaining unfound. Her agents’ terminals should still be able to account for the change.”

“Thanks, EDI.”

Tali tapped a few more keystrokes on the terminal, causing all the screens to flash back to their normal galaxy display, programmed by Liara to play whenever somebody that wasn’t her was within view of it. While Liara assuming the mantle of The Shadow Broker had been a great benefit to The Normandy’s crew as well as the war effort, resources and information finding their way to key government projects from “anonymous” donors, it had also brought out the more paranoid aspects of Liara’s nature, pushing her further into the social isolation she had previously fought, as well as vastly increasing the number of secrets she kept.

“Thank-you, Tali, I appreciate you taking the time to help.”

Tali turned to leave, backing towards the door.

“No problem, Liara. Let me know if it acts up again.”

Liara was walking back towards her port-side auxiliary terminal, intending to resume her work on the Prothean Weapon, datapad already in hand, before she paused, stopping to look at Tali as The Quarian almost reached the door.

“Actaully, Tali, I was wondering if I could speak to you.”

Tali stopped, hand just short of the door interface, turning around with her head tilted in confusion, hands slowly clasping in front of her before they began wringing in her learned nervous habit.

“About what?”

Liara straightened up, taking a seat back towards her bed, careful to sit off to one side, indicating the other to Tali. There were few individuals she felt nearly so comfortable around as Tali, the young Engineer acting almost as the sister she never had, especially after Shepard had… left. Both had stayed in contact as much as possible after the original crew had disintegrated, Tali acting to stave off Liara’s more pessimistic sides as the archeologist metamorphosed into a ruthless information broker, Liara helping to remind Tali of all they still had even in the absence of Shepard and The Normandy. In one of her more questionable actions (though perhaps not so much so, given the fact that Tali was still alive) it had even been her that had forwarded The Illusive Man the information about Tali’s Haestrom mission, praying that Shepard would be able to rescue her in time, thankfully to success.

The fact still stood though that Liara remained uncomfortable with most things personal, her nature not one to become emotionally involved in others’ lives. Detachment had become a way of life for Liara, initially to fight the mockery she received for having two Asari parents, as well as the pain the absence one of those parents had caused, then to cope with the loss of her mother, and finally to prevent the death and destruction which she was informed of so regularly from eliminating her ability to do any good to quell it. Her emotions had become animals carefully caged, allowed entertainment and exercise in the late-night fantasies right before dreams and the occasional enjoyment of the company of her friends, but otherwise kept under careful lock and key, monitored and censored at almost all times. On the more intellectual level, it had become a source of ironic entertainment for her that the one Asari on-board The Normandy, a race typically known for their unusual acceptance and embracement of emotional reactions, was the one to fight them so ardently; but on a more instinctual level it meant that she felt far from the good friend she wanted to be, any matter Tali or Shepard or Garrus (largely her three friends left, at least alive) had that sat at an emotional level was uncomfortable and almost foreign to her, help a step unreachable so long as she struggled to allow empathetic understanding. But this was a conversation that needed to happen. _I’ve seen the way those two have interacted, watched Tali’s stress grow. I can’t consider myself anything but a bad friend if I don’t at least try to help_.

Tali moved towards Liara, taking the offered seat besides her, turning to look Liara in the eyes.

“Forgive me if this is intruding, but I actually wanted to ask you about you and Shepard.”

The change in Tali’s posture was immediate, her comfortably relaxed back becoming unusually straight, her hands ceasing any movement and clasping in her lap. It was a pose that spoke to anyone of practiced self-control, a regulation of reaction that was uncomfortable, but believed to be necessary. Liara continued.

“I’ve noticed that, at least in the week and a half since The Dreadnought, and through the missions to the fighter base and down to Rannoch to rescue The Admiral, you and he have been unusually distant. Forgive me if that is a wrong assertion…”

“It’s not wrong.”

The voice that cut Liara off was devoid of any anger, even lacking in the sadness she would have expected. In fact, it seemed to lack any emotion whatsoever, just a cold admittance of fact.

“Tali, you’re my best friend, and I like to think I am one of yours. Please, speak honestly: what is the matter?”

Tali turned her head straight ahead, thankful for the mask that hid the micro-expressions that flitted across her face, spurts of emotion that escaped from beneath her veneer of practiced indifference and which she knew Liara would have noticed. Her voice, however, remained blissfully steady.

“As I’m sure you’re aware of, Liara, The Commander and I were… together, before his trial. But now, things have changed, I’m an Admiral, I have to keep a certain image for my people. They’re… uneasy, with any other race, distrustful that they won’t just be pushed away like we have been before. For an Admiral to be involved with another species, during this war? It could be disastrous for fleet morale.”

Liara nodded, her face remaining placid. “And I take it you told Shepard this?”

Tali nodded in reciprocation, still looking straight ahead, her posture eroding slightly as her shoulders arched forwards slightly.

“Of course I did. And you know Shepard, sometimes he’s almost too good for his own, well, good. He wasn’t happy with it, Keelah how can I blame him, but he promised he would respect the decision no matter what.”

“I’m assuming he told you he still feels the same way?”

“He did, how did you…?”

“It’s not a hard thing to notice. Your arrival changed Shepard’s mood in a way I hadn’t noticed for quite some time. Even his cabin music became more upbeat.”

“Why am I not surprised you know that.” Liara laughed, smiling slightly sideways in an admission of her slight intrusion upon Shepard’s privacy, inclining her head towards Tali, who continued. “Anyways, yes, he did tell me his feelings were unchanged. But we agreed that it would stay only friendly until this entire war would blow over. But after The Dreadnought, the situation sort of… boiled over. It became clear that we… that strictly professional was the only way for us to handle this. So, we’ve been keeping it that way since.”

Liara nodded gravely, now matching her gaze to where Tali was looking. “I see. And I take it this has been more than a little grating on you?”

Tali swiveled her head quickly to regard Liara, her eyes clouded by unseen wetness and voice modulating slightly. “How could it not? Ancestors, Liara, it’s not as if I want to stay professional, not as if I want to stay away like this. It’s something my fleet needs, my people need, but I’m honestly not certain how much I can take it. But even that makes me feel guilty, since I know I’m an Admiral, and my first responsibility is to The Fleet. If I’m actually fit to be an Admiral, then how can I even let something that The Fleet needs be so detrimental to me?”

Liara looked at Tali, regarding her suited friend and registering all the unique symptoms of grief and frustration that developed in absence of facial expressions, the closely drawn arms, the low-crossed legs, the forward-arched shoulders and back. She scooted closer to her friend, pulling Tali in to a comforting hug, rubbing the arm opposite her, a rare sign of physical affection that felt so unusual for her, but she knew was necessary. _Goddess, give me strength to help her, for I am lost and do not have the feel for words that I know the man she needs but cannot have possesses._

“Tali…” Liara started, pausing afterwards to try and further consider what she said, running a million statements of condolence she had read through her head, her analytical mind searching for a pattern before she admitted that this was an emotional issue alone and could be handled only as such, tentatively allowing her emotions to control her statements in this instance, nervously watching as they guided her mouth and mind to the combination of words that felt only so.

“Tali, you need never feel bad for being drawn because what The Fleet and what you need. I realize it is not in your nature to admit this, but you do not always need to be the admiral they need you to be, but only appear to be such and act as you see right. Sadly, I cannot disagree with your decision to keep things professional between you and the commander, but I can admit that you need not feel bad for disliking the decision. Beyond that, The Commander is a dedicated man, and loves you deeply, and you feel the same. Even if this galaxy has to be torn apart and every reaper torn apart by his hands, I know he will find his way to you, and you to him.”

Tali nodded, leaning slightly into the hug which, while foreign coming from Liara, was not unwelcome.

“I know Liara, I know. I just hope it’s soon enough that the galaxy isn’t destroyed before we make it.”

Liara held Tali tighter, the sister she never had speaking of fears she herself had been fostering. Not of love denied or relationships held hostage by circumstance, but rather lives and treaties, peaces and cooperations the potential of which might yet be quelled all too quickly by the greatest destructive force ever wrought upon The Galaxy.

“Goddess, Tali, don’t we all.”

24 Hours Later, 1300 Normandy Time, Rannoch

Shepard fiddled with one of the thermal-clip packs strapped around his abdomen, ensuring that the outer-portion of his armor sat comfortably while the shuttle made its final descent, closing the last few meters to the ground. Being a sniper, he found the issued N7 armor to be much too bulky, the shoulder-pieces which gave thorough protection to the users interfering too often with his aim for him to prefer it. Shortly after leaving Earth, EDI and Cortez had somehow managed to secure him a suit of Cerberus’ Ajax Armor, re-painted such that the left breast-plate bore his typical N7 insignia, the top shoulder plates sporting the Spectre symbol, and the top of his helmet carrying the Alliance insignia. The suit had quickly become his preferred combat load-out, used whenever possible for the agility, lack of weight, and “natural fit” that it purportedly provided.

Most modern armor was composed of a series of semi-flexible plates, similar in chemical design to the Chitin of insect’s exoskeletons, but with separated plates of metal inside the pieces to provide a combination of maximum protection and mild malleability to the wearer. Cerberus’ Ajax Armor, however, was not designed for combat operators who would find themselves in the path of enemies’ knives, and thus the traditionally heavy sets of plates were supplemented by a material which would harden instantly when impacted at high speeds, a thinner and much improved descendant of Kevlar. This material composed the chest-piece, as well as the arm and leg sleeves, and was attached directly to the arm, shin, and chest/back plates which provided the armor’s primary protective, power, and computing capabilities.  The overall suit was similar to what Kaiden seemed to prefer, but according to Shepard gave him “More aiming ability and less weight than the typical Marine loadout.”

Across from him on The Shuttle, Tali was bouncing her leg, seeming to check her shotgun’s safety and thermal clip port every two seconds, a nervous habit she had developed with the Migrant Fleet Marines. This time, however, it was not borne of nerves over a heavy battle, even though such was almost inevitable, but rather anticipation caused by The Homework she was about to land on.

She, Garrus, and Shepard all looked up as they felt the shuttle jolt, the small landing gear touching ground on a flat spot, Cortez leaning back and calling out “Planetfall, Commander, door controls are all yours.”

Before Shepard could go to stand up Tali was already at the control panel, punching in the commands to open with an impatience that he had seen in her few times before, bypassing the typical pressurization checks to ensure the door opened as rapidly as possible, her efforts quickly rewarded by the door sliding open with a mechanical “Hiss”. Tali walked to the center of the door, taking in the view of the peaks and valleys at what appeared to be midafternoon, her mouth left open in her helmet as her brain struggled to make sense of the sight.

Her first step out of the shuttle was not so much tentative as it was awed, her body moving almost on auto-pilot as she walked onto Rannoch, the home of her ancestors which cliffs and mountains she had all but given up faith she would ever see. She continued walking forwards, eventually bending down to pick up some of the top-layer of dust, letting it run through her hands to try and bring the reality of the situation to the front of her mind.

As she heard footsteps behind her, she stood up, still gazing out over the vista in front.

“Keelah, Shepard, this is it. This is the homeworld, _my_ homeworld. You’ve heard me say “Keelah Se’la”? The best translation I can come up with is “By the home world I hope to see one day.” And here I am, seeing it…”

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

Tali looked over her shoulder to see Shepard standing behind her, a safe distance that was neither too close to be anything but friends, but not quite the professional distance they had been enduring for the past week and a half. Garrus, meanwhile, remained respectfully back by the shuttle, his rifle becoming monumentally interesting.

“Cortez certainly doesn’t pick bad landing zones.”

Shepard chuckled.

“No, he doesn’t.” Shepard stepped forwards, now standing abreast of Tali, staring at the valley beneath them.

Tali crouched down again, bowing her head as she touched the ground beneath her, her eyes closing as her voice took on an almost chant-like quality.

“Our people have travelled long, countless nights amidst open skies. Our people have travelled far, from the home world where we began. Our people have struggled hard, life carved out amidst unwelcoming space. But our people will return, return to where we began. And when our feet step, out upon the shores of our long denied world, when the sunset, rife with color, graces our eyes; when our prayers are spoken from whence they began; Ancestors: welcome the weary and travelled.”

She stood up again, head still bowed as her hands fell to her sides, eyes still closed in reverence.

“Keelah Se’Lai”

Tali looked up again, blinking through the tears that were developing in her eyes, now more than ever wishing that the water did not blurry her vision. Silence hung over the outcropping with almost smothering silence, only the wind of the raised plane disturbing the peace.

After a few minutes, Shepard spoke, quietly.

“Tali?”

She turned towards him, laughing slightly as she realized that, words which she had known since she could speak and considered to be common knowledge, were completely foreign to him.

“It’s a prayer all Quarians learn, ‘The Ancestor’s Prayer’. It is said for the dead, in the hopes that, when we reclaim the homeworld, their souls will finally find peace in The Ancestors.”

Her head dropped, her voice cracking at the memory of close friends and hard losses.

“We’ve lost so many, Shepard, seen so much death. Our path here was painted behind us with the sacrifices of unspoken heroes, like my team on Haestrom…”

She stopped, voice breaking off as sobs threatened to break through her tight throat, her eyes closed in a desperate attempt to fight her tears. A hand reached out and took her left shoulder, another finding its way underneath her helmet, bringing her watery eyes up to meet Shepard’s, filled with conviction and strength, the determination which had saved the galaxy twice over and would not stop until Rannoch was once again Quarian.

“We’ll honor their sacrifice, Tali. We’ll finish this war.”

As she came in to hug him, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight as they both felt the winds which her people had only dreamt of for the past 300 years flow around them.

After a few minutes, a flanged voice spoke as Garrus came towards them from the shuttle.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but, uh, we do still have a Reaper signal to disable.”

John and Tali let go of each other, looking each other in the eye, the green of Shepards’ resonating with hard determination and steely resolve, a look matched by Tali’s behind the mask. Shepard’s face erupted into a specific grin, a smile borne of the look in his eyes, the smile of Commander Shepard, the elite N7 Operative who saw impossible as nothing more than a bigger challenge, who had saved the galaxy twice before and refused even death its satisfaction.

They both turned towards Garrus, Shepard grabbing his Valkyrie from its back holster, Tali her shotgun, both weapons unfolding and initializing with a satisfying series of whirrs and clicks. Shepard’s face still had not resumed its typical drawn-brow determination, and Garrus took a step back.

“Shepard, I still can’t figure out if I like or am terrified of that look. Those Geth better look out.”

Without responding, Shepard stepped off on the trail which led them towards the base, his voice ringing out hard and strong, powerful against even this battle.

“Let’s win back a home world.”

1345 Normandy Time, Rannoch

The entire thing had gone sideways fast. Almost faster than that mission on Eden Prime, so long ago.

They had fought their way through waves upon waves of Geth, their practiced combat carrying them through as they battled their way to the blast door controls. The blast door controls had worked, giving them access to the transmitter and making Legion, again, as good as his word. Even the group of Primes they encountered on the top level had been dealt with well enough, certainly when Garrus and Shepard had found the Spitfires lying around (Garrus could even swear he heard a maniacal laugh coming from Shepard’s position as the turret-intended weapon cut through the shields of one of the giant combat platforms, but he couldn’t be certain).

But as soon as EDI had fired her missiles at Shepard’s painted target, Thanix canons too dangerous in-atmosphere, the entire thing had gone sideways.

As soon as the explosion had sounded, the platform from which Shepard was targeting had collapsed, the shockwave knocking him and the team off their balance, causing them all to tumble down the side of the structure. A two story fall was not an easy thing to recover from, even with their armor and the lack of headwounds which could be described as nothing except miraculous. But that recovery became even harder when the “transmitter” turned out to be a Reaper itself, the leg crawling out of the pit and making its presence known in a very real, almost deadly way.

The team sprinted towards the transport Legion had pulled up in, Tali pausing only to put down a Geth which had sprung up as they all continued their desperate dash towards the vehicle. An ear-splitting drone that had come to be associated with absolute death and destruction on all worlds sounded as Tali and Garrus clambered in, Shepard taking position on the external turret. _For whatever good that’s going to do_.

It wasn’t half a second after Shepard’s mag-boots had locked onto the platform and Tali and Garrus had secured their restraints that Legion took off driving, evading the massive sentient machine as best he could. As they swerved, Shepard activated his ear-piece, calling up to EDI.

“EDI, how long would it take to patch The Quarian Fleet’s guns into this targeting Laser.”

“That depends, Shepard, do you wish for me to do it with or without their consent?”

Shepard let loose a blast of fire from the turret, shots that would have been devastating to even a flying target but which were dissolved by the shields of the monstrosity behind him as though he were throwing rocks. His anger at the situation boiled higher inside of him, giving his voice a distinctive edge as he talked.

“If I told you I don’t give a damn at this point, what would you say?”

“I could sync up all the weapons from The Quarian Fleet in 4.68 seconds, Shepard.”

Shepard nodded, letting loose another stream of fire as he thought to himself, considered what he was about to attempt, his frustration with the current situation and built-up anger adding to his adrenaline, forcing him to a single conclusion.

“Do it, EDI. Try and be diplomatic, but at the end of the day, I need those guns in 15 seconds.”

“Understood, Shepard.”

Across the entire Quarian fleet, a semi-synthesized voice began playing through all the bridge speakers, simultaneously announcing the same message.

“Attention Quarian Vessel, this is the SSV Normandy. Commander Shepard is currently in combat with a reaper on the surface, with intent to destroy it. As such, your weapons systems have been synchronized to the targeting laser being carried by The Commander. Thank-you for your cooperation.”

On the Normandy, Joker looked over at EDI’s body, still flying out to orbit.

“That’s a bit cold, isn’t it EDI? I mean, could we give them a choice?”

“I would not have been able to secure the firepower The Commander has asked for in time had I presented them a choice. I believe this is an instance where the ends justify the means, Jeff.”

“I’m not disagreeing EDI just… wow.”

Shepard’s voice cracked over the speakers.

“Shepard to Quarian Fleet, it’s not a Reaper Base, it’s a damn Reaper. I need an orbital strike NOW!”

EDI responded, already targeting what she could with a patchwork of sensors and Shepard’s suit camera.

“Firing now Shepard.”

Fire erupted on The Reaper as orbital-strike shells rained from above, an ear-splitting series of hundreds of explosions resonating within the valley. As Shepard watched, three shells impacted the Reapers’ firing chamber in rapid succession, causing the machine to stumble and fall, appearing disoriented.

EDI came again over the speakers.

“What did we hit, Shepard.”

“A few shells nailed it’s firing chamber, it appears to be a weak-spot while its weapon is priming.”

“Due to the base’s interference, we are unable to make a precision shot. You will have to utilize your targeting scanner for more strikes.”

Legion’s voice came over the comms.

“We may be able to escape while it recovers.”

Shepard’s teeth gritted, his jaw hardening as his rational mind fought an idea fueled by a desperate anger and frustration, a plan crazy by any standard to be impossible, but just achievable for Shepard to consider. _I shouldn’t, we need more firepower, this isn’t the time to be a hero, John. But this is precisely the time, Shepard, save Rannoch, destroy that thing…_

Shepard typically strove to maintain a rational thought process in all situations, logic proving to be his most powerful tool through Boot Camp, OCS, ICT, and the countless battles he had survived. But while running from the Reaper, concluding a simple mission that had gone wrong almost faster than he could comprehend, staring down the embodiment of death and destruction and suffering for so many millions, rage was about the only thing that occupied his mind. Rage at the universe, for creating such blight within his galaxy. Rage at The Reapers for the suffering of billions they were causing and the destruction they wrought upon so many worlds. Rage at this war for keeping him from Tali. His hot anger boiled to a cold, deadly rage, rage which had proved at times the most lethal in the galaxy; which had helped to save Elysium, which had tracked down Saren, which had eradicated The Collectors. The cold, precisely lethal rage of Commander Shepard was a force not known by many, but unilaterally feared by all who encountered it, for reasons The Reapers were about to discover.  

“No, Pull over.”

The vehicle came to a rapid halt, turning sideways in an attempt to slow it down faster, Legion obeying almost instantly. Foregoing any of the foot-holds that were mounted on the sides, and practically ignoring the five meter drop, Shepard stepped off his turret, landing with a vicious thud was heard inside. His voice seethed as he spoke, his typical cool-headedness giving way to a cold fury that clipped his words and made his movements more precise. His voice became hard and cool, scarily level but with instensity that could burn worlds and kill demons.

“If we leave now, the geth remain under Reaper control and The Quarians are dead. We are done running, this ends here.”

Garrus spoke out over the group-comm.

“Shepard, you can’t be serious.”

The response came back, chillingly cold and blasting Garrus down farther into his seat.

“I am absolutely serious, Garrus.”

As Tali sat in the tank, watching through external sensors as John pulled the targeting laser from his back, her mind began to race. It filled with images of days they may never live together, conversations they may never have, a lonely grave on a fallen planet, visited only by ashes and haunted by the memories of a great man. Her mind filled with regrets she might yet have, if that same man did not walk back out of this alive, and she decided she couldn’t live with that. _To hell with the fleet, I need to do this for me._

“Shepard, if you don’t… if this doesn’t…”

The response returned eerily quiet, the voice belonging to a different man than the force of nature which had spoken before. This was John, quietly and over their private channel.

“You’ll have a home Tali, I guarantee it.”

_Now or never. Keelah, just say it._

“I love you.”

Again, the same soft voice.

“Keelah Se’Lai.”

Seconds passed as quiet tears began to run down Tali’s face, her mind screaming for her to stop John as he began to walk away, begging for her to speak out. She did, quietly, so much so that he almost didn’t hear her.

“I only want to see it with you…”

John’s voice was harder, not quite Commander Shepard, but still determined, filled with the intense love.

“Then I better kill this Reaper.”

Garrus, who had been watching silently, oblivious to the conversation between Tali and John, spoke up again, his voice carrying sincere concern but hard resolve, one soldier’s blessing to another.

“Come out of this alive, Shepard. Good luck.”

This time, Commander Shepard, Lion of Elysium, Hero of the Citadel, Alliance N7 and Council Spectre, Savior of and Last Hope of The Galaxy, the man who was about to kill a Reaper on foot, spoke back.

“The only thing we’re guaranteed in life is that we won’t survive it, Vakarian. One of us is going to get a stark reminder of this, and I sure as hell intend to make it off this planet.”

With that, The Commander took off running as The Reaper regained its footing, Targeting Laser activating and eyes turning grey with steely, cold, determination.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little iffy... some parts of it I felt great about, some parts not so much. Please, tell me what you think, I'm considering re-writing it. Will be adding the second half of Rannoch soon. Enjoy!


	4. Reclamations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quarians reclaim Rannoch and Tali and John reclaim each other.

1350 Normandy Time, Rannoch

The Reaper stumbled under the withering fire of the Quarian Fleet, attempting to find its footing after every shell hit its firing chamber, but failing as the stream of mass-accelerated warheads refused to slow. Shepard had taken cover behind a nearby boulder, the fire deafening in his ears, debris and shockwaves flying overhead.

With a roar that sounded as close to a cry in pain as a reaper could get the machine fell, throwing a massive dust cloud up around it as it came to rest. A sound like a high-pitch whine sounded one last time as it tried to move its legs, failing as the lights in its appendages went out with an electronic whirr. Shepard stood up, walking up to a rock outcropping that overlooked the soon to be corpse.

The blast shields that had covered The Reaper's firing chamber remained open, no energy left within the machine to close them. Inside, the conduits that ran in front of it were all broken, blast marks scarring the closest thing to a face the abomination had, the four white lights which used to surround the one red were all broken, one sparking. A fire appeared to break out immediately beneath the red light, seeming to spread inside the conduit from which it sprung with an increase of smoke and heat waves from the spot. The red light that used to be the firing chamber, badly damaged and broken, rotated to face Shepard with the sound of metal scraping against metal, the smooth motion of the ancient machine obliterated with the massive strike. The Reaper spoke.

"Shepard."

The Commander crossed his arms, his breath still heavy with the adrenaline of facing down the giant machine on foot, his blood pumping in his ears. The rage he had felt going up against the machine had subsided, slightly, as he heard it cry out as he fell. Hearing the voice, however, so similar to that he had heard in Saren's base so long ago, brought it back with chilling effect, his face hardening as he stood over the felled machine. His voice was cold, ruthless, slicing through the distance though he raised it barely above a loud speech. He spoke with a cutting sarcasm that was entirely devoid of humor, his eyes narrowing at the machine.

"I'm flattered, you heard of me."

"Harbinger speaks of you. You resist. But you will fail. The cycle must continue"

A chilling laugh erupted from Shepard's lips, no mirth nor amusement in the sound, rather just cold, furious mocking.

"Last time I checked, I'm not the one lying on the ground dying. Oh, yeah, and then there was Sovereign, Saren... Oh, and the Collectors, I seem to remember killing them too. Remind me again how that's failure?"

"It is not a thing you can comprehend."

Shepard's face hardened, walking forwards to get a better view of the machine in front of him. His voice lost even the cutting sarcasm of before, evolving into the merciless tone of a soldier facing down his greatest enemy as he stood over it, watching it die.

"Try me."

"You represent chaos. We represent order. Every organic civilization  _must_  be harvested in order to bring order to chaos. It is inevitable. Without our intervention, organics are doomed. We are your salvation."

Shepard turned his head as he heard Garrus and Tali approach from behind, both slightly awed at what they had just seen, the feat of defeating a Reaper while on foot, even with a targeting laser and fleet in support, monumental for even Shepard. They held back from him, giving him room to defeat this enemy his way, his own personal vengeance.

Shepard glared at the Reaper, not even responding to its last statement.

"The cycle must continue. There is no alternative."

Shepard began to speak quietly, precisely, each syllable imbued with passion and every word a pillar of determination. His voice still remaining cold, his voice raised as he continued, until at the end it had become a yell that would make any organic shrink. Garrus flinched hearing the tone, having never heard this level of near brutality from The Commander, not that he didn't think the machine deserved it; Tali stood with her mouth open, not moving as she watched John harden into such a force of nature that he yelled down the greatest destructive force to ever infest the galaxy.

"There is one. There is one alternative to your cycle. And it involves you, and every piece of filth you have brought with you to our homes and upon our families to wipe us out simply because you do not understand us being crushed under the force of a thousand worlds."

"Organics and synthetics are doomed to destroy each other."

"No, they're not."

"The battle for Rannoch…"

"NO!"

Shepard yelled, his voice almost drowned out by the reaper but its pure intensity halting the massive machine as it spoke. Silence sat over the canyon, even the wind seeming to stop.

Shepard continued.

"No, you're done talking, it's my turn. We have listened to your kind speak and yell about our inevitable destruction for too long, it ends now. Organics and synthetics can coexist. Perhaps you've forgotten in your 'incomprehensible magnitude', but we have free will too, and we can use it to choose our own destiny. We are doomed to nothing. And certainly not doomed to your twisted idea of 'preservation'. We may be chaos, but that's how organic life thrives, how it evolves. Life has survived for millions of years through countless catastrophes, what you label as 'chaos' giving us adaptability, the 'conflict' you seek to exterminate making us strong."

The Reaper tried to speak, getting out only "You…" before being silenced by another vicious yell from Shepard.

"NO! No, it's your turn to listen. You tell your kind that we are coming, that we are coming to destroy you and everything you are. You will NOT be our destruction, you will NOT be the fire that burns us out! You  _will_  be the galvanizing force that unites a galaxy, the common threat that unifies everything you hate as it wipes you out. So go, tell them that we are coming, and tell them to get out while they still can. Because I can assure you, we will show no mercy, we will give you no quarter. You have threatened our homes, our children, our very existence. We are coming for you, and you will be eviscerated. There won't even be a light bulb left to go out by the time we're done. It will be a cold day in whatever  _hell_  you crawled out of before we let you be the death of us. We're done here."

Shepard brought up his omnitool, tuning himself in to his channel to EDI. The Reaper in front of him remained silent, unblinking red eye watching Shepard. The Commander spoke with a mockingly casual tone, sounding almost as though he were simply remarking upon the weather, were it not for the deadly undertones that anybody could hear. Tali shivered slightly as she listened.

"EDI?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

"You know that Reaper in front of me? Do we have a fix on it?"

"We do, Shepard."

"I think it really messes up the landscape, don't you?"

The Reaper's eye began swiveling, looking around in what almost seemed to be frantic spasms, power being heard as it tried to stand back up, shields even flickering once before dropping again, the damage to its systems too great.

"It does seem out of place, Shepard. Did you have something else in mind?"

The Commander's voice, once again, became cold as ice.

"I think a crater would look better. See to it."

The Reaper began to speak.

"SHEPARD! You can not resist our coming, we are more than you can imagine, older than you can comprehend. We are your salvation, the one hope organics have. Stop resisting, for your…"

Another stream of fire rained from ahead, all variances of shells and missiles raining from the orbiting fleet, silencing the reaper beneath their deafening sound and withering explosions. The stream continued, a constant bombardment from hundreds of ships that was enough to obliterate any normal target, but this was not a normal target. The stream continued as Shepard stood with crossed arms, watching the final destruction of the Reaper, peering through the smoke as the fire stopped to see, truly, a large, half-kilometer wide crater with various debris from the Reaper that had previously occupied the space scattered within it.

He turned around, walking towards his squad as they came forwards to the outcropping, still silent.

Tali was the first to speak.

"We did it. We killed a Reaper. Keelah…"

Legion had made his way behind the group, maintaining a respectful distance as it observed The Commander speaking to the Reaper, disseminating the information to The Geth, storing it in their collective memories. It pulled up its omnitool, a gesture it had learned to make organics feel more at home with its networking capabilities but which was wholly unnecessary, speaking to the squad.

"We can comfirm that the geth are no longer directed by the Old Machine. We are free."

Shepard's breath was still heavy, his heartbeat and respiration still calming from his face-down with The Reaper, a small smile replacing the furious scowl he had held on his face for the past five minutes as he spoke up for Organic life against the greatest threat it had ever faced.

Admiral Gerrel sounded over the squad's comms.

"You did it Shepard! The Geth Fleet has stopped firing. They're completely vulnerable."

Legion walked up, placing himself directly in front of Shepard as he, Garrus, and Tali walked back from the edge of the outcropping, stopping the group in their tracks.

"Shepard-Commander, the Geth acted only in defense after the Creators attacked. Do we deserve death?"

Shepard's smile fell, face no longer resuming his previous scowl, but rather a mildly perplexed look, looking first to Tali then to Garrus, who raised his hands to indiciate he had no idea.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Our upgrades. With the Old Machine dead, we could upload them to all geth without sacrificing their independence. "

Tali stepped forwards, looking back at Garrus and Shepard, both of whom had tilted their heads as they considered what Legion had said. Her voice was concerned, almost aghast, clearly worried for the repercussions for The Fleet this decision could carry.

"You want to upload the Reaper code? That would make the Geth as smart as when the Reaper was controlling them!"

Legion's response was carefully monitored, all Geth inside the platform working to emulate the tones and inflections it had heard from Tali's colleagues in its entire time, trying to emulate emotion in a bid for individuality.

"Yes, but with free will. Each Geth unit would be a true intelligence. We would be alive, and we could help you."

Tali turned to Shepard, pleading for her people as hard as she could.  _He can't choose the Geth. Keelah, I don't want to kill them, they deserve a chance, but they will act in self-defense, and The Admiralty will never back down. If they regain their intelligence, the fleet will be destroyed. All this… for nothing. We just won our homeworld, have come the farthest in 300 years, Shepard can't let the Geth keep their upgrades!_

"Our fleet is already attacking! Uploading the code would destroy us! Shepard, you can't choose the Geth over my people, over me!"

From behind her, Legion had turned to face the pair, Garrus standing in the background, knowing this was not his fight. Regardless of how he felt, this was a decision to be made between Tali, Legion, and Shepard. Legion, once again, pleaded his case.

"Do you remember the question that caused the Creators to attack us, Tali'Zorah? Does this unit have a soul?"

Shepard crossed his arms, bowing his head as he weighed his options, an internal war inside raging. The Tactician, The Soldier, The Lover, were all vying for his final decision, all pulling his mind away.  _You can't choose The Geth, not over Tali. But they have resources we need, fleets without which we may never defeat The Reapers. It's a tactically sound decision. But if we make decisions solely off of numbers and resources, we become no better than what we are fighting. Dammit, I don't want to kill either._

_Unless…_

Shepard grabbed Tali by the shoulders, turning her to face him. John's voice spoke, but with the same hard determination he had used before facing down the Reaper.

"Tali, do you still believe in peace between your people and The Geth?"

Tali paused, her breathing heavy as she watched what could be the destruction of her fleet, her entire race. She cocked her head as she considered, looking into Shepard's eyes to see love, utter dedication to her that said that, if he had to, he would choose her over any tactical advantage, but pain as well that screamed of how the galaxy could use the Geth. Her mind raced.  _If only we had more time. Maybe if we could negotiate a ceasefire, consider what was being said? If we weren't already attacking maybe, but right now… No, that's not what he asked. Do you believe there could be peace?_

"I do, Shepard."

"Tali, this may be the only chance we have. If we can stop your fleet from attacking, if we can give the Geth true intelligence and show them that their existence is safe, we, you, can still have peace. I can't make this decision alone, I won't, and you know I will do anything to save your people. But it has to be made now. Do you think, truly, that you and your people can make peace with the Geth?"

Tali hung her head, her mind, again, racing.  _Keelah, now. Now of all times. After we've just won Rannoch, I have to choose the fate of my entire race. I'm not ready for this. No, I am ready, the decision has to be made now. I'm not The Admiral's Daughter, I'm an Admiral of the Migrant Fleet, I have a say. I know I have support from a third of the captains, and Reegar has spoken highly for me to The Marines… We would need Gerrel, and maybe even Raan's support… but we could do it. Yes._

She looked up, back into Shepard's pleading eyes, asking her for guidance. Her voice was soft, but determined.

"Yes, Shepard. I do. Let's make it happen."

Shepard nodded, tapping his forehead to her visor, speaking softly, his voice beginning with uncertainty and almost breaking, but resolving into strength.

"Let's make peace."

He looked to Legion, his voice again Commander Shepard's.

"Legion, upload the code."

A glowing orb erupted in front of Legion, the platform's hands moving around as it rotated, another visual cue it had learned organics found helpful. Shepard turned towards Tali, giving her a single nod as she got on her own comms to the fleet.

"All ships, this is Admiral Tali'Zorah, break off your attack!"

Gerrel's voice cracked over the comms, causing the frustration to rise in Shepard.  _This idiot is going to get his own people killed, just because he refuses to let go of old grudges…_

"Belay that order! Continue the attack!"

Tali turned towards Shepard, a low panic resonating in her voice.

"Shepard… I don't know if we can get the fleet to do this."

Legion called out, with machine efficiency.

"The upload is 40% complete."

Shepard hung his head, the adrenaline coming back from before. Tali moved closer, tapping wildly on her omnitool.  _Maybe if I can contact the captains individually… but they've blocked communications for battle… Maybe Raan… But she's not responding… Keelah, Tali, don't lose this now._

"Nobody more dies today."

Shepard spoke, his voice low but hard, tired in a way that would push men to move mountains and broker peaces.

His hand raised to his omni tool as he patched himself in to the fleet's communications.

"This is Commander Shepard. The Reaper is dead, we could take back Rannoch today. The Geth are uploading the upgrades they received from The Reaper, and are about to return to previous strength, become individuals. All they want is to be allowed existence, as true intelligence's, true life. If you call off the attack, prove that you will not, again, deny them their right to live, they will no longer attack. This war has been waged to take back your homeworld, thousands have died to see it Quarian again. Do not waste that for old grudges. Break off your attack, and there can be peace."

Tali watched as Shepard spoke, his words imbued with passion and leadership, a call to follow that only a natural born leader can give. Across the fleet, crews stopped and turned to their captains, wondering if, indeed, the homeworld might be theirs, questioning whether the Geth could actually be allies. Captains sat in their chairs, pondering the words of this hero, a man renowned throughout the galaxy for his honesty and ability to save lives, weighing his reputation against their bias.

Legion spoke. "Eighty percent complete."

From behind him, Tali spoke.

"This is Admiral Zorah, Commander Shepard speaks with my authority."

Over the comms, two more voices came through; one the clear voice of a space-bound transmission, the other clearly coming from a downed ship on the planet.

"This is Admiral Koris, The Commander speaks with mine as well."

"This… ral Raan… Commander… as well."

"Ninety five percent complete."

Across the comms, a small tone indicating a private channel, an unlikely voice sounded in Shepard's ear, apprehension clearly audible.

"Shepard, this is Gerrel. Can you  _guarantee_  the Geth will not attack?"

Shepard turned towards legion, the Geth still intent on uploading the code.

"Legion, are you sure the Geth will not attack if the Quarians break off?"

The platform answered, without turning its head.

"Yes, Shepard-Commander, consensus has been reached: The Geth will not attack The Creators except in self defense."

Shepard brought his left hand to his ear, tapping the micro-earpiece twice to switch to the previous channel.

"Yes, Gerrel. I can guarantee the Geth will not attack."

Another tone indicated the channel was cut off, Gerrel's voice sounding, again, over the fleet coms.

"This is Admiral Gerrel, call off your attack."

Tali breathed a noticeable sigh of relief, the tension which had been building from the situation releasing at the words. She looked up to meet John's tired smile as he heard the words that would save her race, his heart still pounding from the adrenaline. He grabbed her, holding her tight and bringing his lips to the top of her visor, pure joy radiating between both of them. Looking back, Garrus was shaking his head, chuckling to himself.  _Why do we never do things quietly?_

Legion closed the sphere in front of him, turning around to the embracing couple.

"Error, copying code is insufficient. Direct personality dissemination required…"

Shepard broke off the hug, he and Tali turning to face the Geth, their high spirits quickly falling as they both realized what that meant. Tali spoke.

"Legion, you don't mean..."

"Shepard-Commander, Creator Tali'Zorah, I must go to them. I'm… I'm sorry, it's the only way."

The platforms voice had suddenly turned almost emotional as it spoke, the modulations matching what almost sounded like grief, the ocular stock looking down as if to hang its head. Shepard heard only words, but Tali, who had heard platforms and Geth referred to as "we" or "they" all her life, heard the difference.  _Keelah, it… he, has a personality. He's an individual. And now…_

"Legion, you can't, isn't there…"

"No, Tali, there is not. We have analyzed three thousand, seven hundred and sixty eight other alternatives, none are sufficient. I… regret, that I did not get to see the end of this war. I would have… liked, to fight with The Normandy more."

The platform still hesitated as it worked to process the emotions that it was now facing, the new experiences foreign to the newly formed individual contained inside. It was not wrong, if anything the feeling was scarily natural, lacking in process and logic of every other process, but it was foreign, entirely, a new paradigm that needed not be assimilated, but rather just accepted. Data already known, that needed only to be acknowledged.

"Legion, the answer to your question? Was yes."

Legion turned to face Tali entirely, its head flaps opening in what could be uncannily described as a smile.

"I know, Tali, thank-you. Goodbye."

With that, Legion turned to face the sun, beginning to set in Rannoch's evening, casting an orange hue across the majestic vista of the landscape, head flaps moving as though taking in the beauty, one last glimpse of the home it could give both its people and its creators.

"Keelah Se'Lai."

With that all the lights in the unit turned off simultaneously, even an aura of life which existed around the platform evaporated, leaving in its place a cold machine. Legion's body collapsed as though the strings had been cut on a puppet, falling with its head turned to the left, right arm stretched out towards the setting sun as its left crumpled underneath it.

A slight sob came from Tali as Legion fell, hanging her head with regret that it… he, could not be saved, so new to life but so quick to give it to allow his people the same. She walked over to the body, bending down to touch his ocular stock, touching it like one would the head of a dear friend.

"Rest easy, Legion, and know that your sacrifice has given life, hope, and home to millions. Keelah Se'Lai."

She turned as she heard the shifting of armor, Shepard sitting down facing the setting sun, grasping his knees with his arms. She could see the expression on his face, the tiredness and sadness it carried, drained of energy by the day's events and beset by the loss of a friend. She walked over, sitting down next to him, just close enough for their elbows to touch. Garrus walked away, hearing a shuttle landing a couple hundred meters away, muttering something about going to see that nobody heard.

"It's beautiful, isn't it Tali?"

"It is, it truly is."

"How hard do you think it will be, building a new life here, with the Geth?"

Tali turned to look at him, his lip quivering as he looked over the valley.  _He must think…_

"I'm not staying, John."

John turned to look at her, his face held steady by sheer will power, but his eyes lighting up with a combination of hope and confusion. While they had agreed that at the conclusion of the war, they would reevaluate their relationship, John had considered it all but a foregone conclusion that Tali would stay and help her people reclaim their homeworld. To hear her speak so dearly of what they had won, to hear the joy that came of seeing the place of her ancestors tread by Quarians again had brought him a bittersweet happiness, hearing the joy of a place in the galaxy so long denied that would likely spell an upwards trend for her people, but also the death toll of any relationship they would have, any chance he would have to be with her.

Tali saw his expression, speaking again.

"I'm coming with The Normandy, John, with you."

John bowed his head, his face becoming increasingly conflicted as he answered.

"I wasn't going to ask."

Tali continued to look at him, scrutinize his face as a roll of emotions, too fast for her to pick up, played over it, her own face a stark expression of confusion.

"Why not?"

Shepard looked at Tali, frustration coming through as the final in the roulette of expressions, not at her but at himself, at the situation. A frustration borne of a man who wanted nothing more than to beg her to come with him, but respected what she had said too much. His voice played with a combination of such frustration and pleading, self-controlled and slightly clipped, quickly evolving into a rolling stream of sentences and sentiments lost in his own confusion and struggle to handle his own emotions.

"Because I respect you. After what we said in my cabin, I didn't want to assume you wanted me. I wanted to believe it, really, there's nothing I've wanted to believe in more, and I had hoped for sure. But seeing you here, seeing how happy it made you, I wasn't certain and…"

"John…"

"Then we won you the homeworld and brokered a peace with the Geth, which almost means you might want to stay for your people more since you're the Admiralty's expert advisor. And how could I even know that you would want to come, that the situation with your people had changed? So many times we had said…"

"John."

"And then I have the nerve to assume that anything would change at the end of the war, when all you said is that we'd evaluate, but all the signs that I saw, everything except for what I wanted, which isn't much compared to the needs of a people who…"

"John!"

Shepard paused, looking up at Tali again, his face wrought with pleading, self-confusion, and apprehension. Tali smiled inside her helmet, amused, as always, by how hopelessly lost this man, who just finished yelling down a Reaper and then brokering a peace between the Quarians and the Geth, could get when dealing with his own emotions.  _And I thought I had a tendency to ramble… He just comes apart at the seams. If I didn't know how conflicted he is, I might almost say it's adorable._

"Yes?"

"Ask."

Shepard sighed, in through his mouth and then out slowly through his nostril, looking down and then back up at Tali with a small smile on his face. He stood up, standing as straight as he could as he offered a hand down to her, looking straight into her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Tali, will you rejoin the Normandy crew in our fight against the Reapers?"

Tali giggled, he formality with which he asked so clearly uncomfortable but entirely heart-warming on him.

"I will."

Shepard's smile was immediate, the infectious grin spreading to his eyes in a way that had not been there for a long time. She took his hand and stood next to him, moving closer until their shoulders touched, both gazing out over the sunlit valley.

Silence, a comfortable one that spoke of love and finally happy reunions, reigned.

Shepard, tentatively spoke, his voice still carrying the joy of what had just happened, but ridden also with uncertainty in his question, apprehension for the answer.

"So, where does that leave… us?"

Tali giggled, again so amused at the way he asked.  _I tell him that I will leave my people, join him and a bunch of misfits on a ship that has spent the past seven months crossing the galaxy this way and that to help save the universe, accompany him through whatever hell we're heading for, and he still has to ask where we stand? I love him to death, but Ancestors' Will can he be thick._

"Keelah, Shepard, I'm not going to beg, but I'm not going with you just to fix your drive core. Which needs a mild tuneup to the eezo mountings, by the way, they're misaligned by point five eight six degrees."

Shepard laughed, slightly nervously, his mind still trying to wrap around the innuendo to find the meaning.  _So… was that a yes? Or are we still "friends", because I frankly couldn't tell. Maybe I'll ask again…_

Tali beat him to the question.

"This leaves me, standing with my human boyfrieind, who just killed a Reaper on foot and then yelled the thing to death, standing on the world of my ancestors after having just reclaimed Rannoch. This leaves us in the perfect moment."

John laughed, fully relieved as he heard the word "boyfriend" leave her mouth.  _That's definitely a yes._

His hand slipped into hers, their fingers intertwining into a harmony which they had found at the end of the collector mission, and which he hoped he could enjoy many times more, both of them thinking the same thing.  _This is right._

"It'll be years before we can live without our suits completely. But right now…"

Tali reached up and took her mask off, her voice sounding clearly through as the suit's speakers and voice modulators turned off, John turning to look at her.

"Right now, I have this."

She turned to look at John, who's grin was larger than she had ever seen it, and her hand reached up, grasping the back of his head, as she pulled him into a kiss that contained all the emotion, all the joy and happiness, the elation and feelings of home, which she felt at the moment, all the meanings of being with him, the hopes at what the future could hold, and the prospects her new homeworld had. John was startled at first, not expecting the sign of physical affection, but he quickly acclimated, hands reaching around to grasp her back as they pulled themselves closer to each other, enjoying the blissful moment as long as it would last.

A flanged voice cleared it's throat about ten yards behind Tali, causing them both to start and Tali's mask to snap quickly on as Garrus spoke.

"I don't mean to interrupt the celebrations" he said, giving both Tali and Shepard a knowing glance, causing both to blush furiously, though Tali's was hidden under her visor. "but I happened to track down a Quarian admiral who would like a few words with you two."

Admiral Raan walked up behind Garrus, limping slightly but seemingly in otherwise good health.

Shepard spoke first.

"Admiral Raan, I heard your ship had to make a crash landing, glad to see you got out in one piece."

"Indeed, Commander, from what I hear, your ship's AI might have been responsible for our survival, rumor has it EDI piloted us to safety after our helmsman was knocked out."

"Glad to hear it."

"I was listening over the radio, Commander, you heard me speak. That was… quite a speech you gave. I am very grateful it worked out."

Shepard glanced at Tali, smiling as he saw her eyes curl up in a likewise expression.

"I am too Admiral. I am too."

A Geth prime came jogging up to the group, causing Tali to tense and reach for her pistol before Shepard placed his hand on her shoulder to calm her. Admiral Raan backed up a few paces as the imposing machine came closer, the three lights in its optical stalk growing a distinctive blue. The unit spoke.

"Admiral Raan, we are aware that the Creators suffered heavy losses during the war. Would you be able to land your ships so that you may make repairs and tend to your wounded."

The admiral seemed shocked, clearly expecting something other than this open-armed welcome back by an enemy of so long.

"We have… That would be ideal. But do you not need to… negotiate, with your people before we can land?"

The platform stared at Raan, pausing before continuing, its voice emotive.

"I do not, Admiral. We reached consensus before our awakening that the Creators would be allowed immediate access to the entire homeworld at the cessation of the war, and we intend to keep that promise. The homeworld has been restored to as close to its original state as we could manage, and should be ready for you to land, and I have been sent to speak with you about possible initial colonization sites. We are ready to render as much aid as you require."

Raan turned back to Shepard and Tali, speechless at what she had just heard. Her expectations were optimistic for the end of the war, anticipating a peaceful reclamation of her world, but one that was wrought with negotiations over territory and rights. She had never expected such a welcome, such unassuming generosity and cooperation from an enemy which she had been taught to hate from birth. It had left her speechless.

Tali, however, had another concern on her mind.

"Legion? Is that…"

She trailed her sentence off, the platform in front of her hanging its head at the mention of its late comrade's name, flaps fanning in what somehow resembled sorrow.

"No, Admiral Zorah, I am not Legion. He was distributed among all the Geth when he sacrificed himself to give us life. His sacrifice" The platform looked at Shepard "and his promises will be honored. We will help you with the Crucible."

Shepard smiled, glad to hear the news.  _A race of highly intelligent machines with unmatched computing capability that understand mechanical systems on a more intricate level than any organic ever can? Might be a bit of a help._

"Glad to hear it… uh… what is your name."

"I have not yet decided on a name, the process is new for the Geth. But in the interim, Elizabeth will suffice."

Shepard was caught off guard by the choice, the deep voice and massive stature of the Prime not indicating to him by any means that a girls name would be chosen. His eyebrow raised in confusion as he pondered the choice.

"Elizabeth?"

"A name taken from human history: Elizabeth Bennett, First Chairman of the Alliance Parlaiment. It was her efforts that pushed humanity into space and, without which, peace would never be achieved. Do you find it lacking?"

Shepard laughed at himself, still trying to get over the fact that this massive machine was choosing a female name.  _Then again, there's nothing to delineate gender. Elizabeth is just as good as any male name…_

"No, Elizabeth is a lovely name." He said, stifling his laugh and speaking over it.

Elizabeth turned towards Raan, speaking again in its contrarily deep voice.

"Admiral, please accompany me, we would like to coordinate our efforts to best assist you."

The admiral stuttered as she walked, still in shock over the welcome she and her people had received, her voice seeming distant and nonbelieving, shaking her head as she walked.

"Yes…yes… let's do that, Elizabeth."

Tali turned to John, smiling as she put her hands around his arms, tapping her speaker light to his mouth, an almost forgotten substitute for a peck on the lips.

"John, let's go home."

1430, Normandy Deck 1

John heard the auto-cleaner finish as the drawer containing his armor slid out, the mildly hot plates devoid of the dust and debris that had impacted them on Rannoch.  _Thank goodness for autocleaners, I remember having to clean my armor by hand in ICT. I wouldn't have time to win this war if I had to do that now…_

He removed it from the device, placing it inside the foam inserts that held it in his quarters. Unlike the rest of his team, his armor was kept in his own quarters, Captain's prerogative and such, allowing him to dress and maintain his gear independently of Lieutenant Cortez's armory oversight, a right which he was sometimes thankful for as scratches showed up on a few of their few and far between Marines' armors.  _The man may know weapons, he may even be a good armorer, but he is not gentle with it. I can just hear his explanation "Loco, it's armor. If it wasn't designed to take a hit, I wouldn't be wearing it."_

Across from him, Tali got up from where she had been lounging on his couch. The two had not left each other's sight since Rannoch, talking to each other in low voices (much to Garrus' chagrin, something about "getting a room" being muttered about twice every fifteen minute) like two teenagers who were with their first crush. There was still business to attend to, they both knew it, but even just talking business with each other, after the revelations of Rannoch, was a release from the strain of their forced professionalism for the past week and a half.

After deactivating her datapad, Tali walked towards John, tapping her speaker light to his shoulder as she changed course for the door to the stateroom.

"John, I have to go to the fleet, get my command transferred to the Normandy. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

John finished stowing his gear, turning to face her, the smile on his face being capable of description as nothing but "lovesick".

"Alright, Tali. While you're at it, why don't you grab your things and get yourself moved aboard?"

Tali smiled, enjoying the invitation, as well as the smile, her sense of home stronger here than she had felt in months.

"I'll be sure to. Maybe when I get back we can grab some dinner?"

"Absolutely, all this Reaper killing has me starved." Shepard walked over to his couch, collapsing into it as the excitement of the day wore off, giving way to veritable exhaustion. "Maybe some time to relax would be nice to. Want to watch a movie tonight? For once I think I have time."

Tali laughed as the door opened for her, turning around to face him.

"I'd like that, but it has to be campy. Nothing of actual quality."

John tented his fingers over his chest, giving an indignant gasp.

"Tali, just what kind of primitive do you take me for? We will watch nothing, but the finest C-grade horror flicks."

"Glad to hear it. And John?"

John looked up at her, peaking his eyebrow in curiosity, pausing the searching he was doing on his omnitool for "Revenge of the Killer Omnibeings from the Seventeenth Dimension."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

John's grin resurfaced again as happiness spread throughout him, those three words eliminating all the worry and stress and fatigue he had suffered over the past few days, substituted by absolute joy.

"I love you too, Tali."


	5. Foundation's Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they're back together, John and Tali start to set the foundations for their relationship. Shepard oriented, Part 2 will be Tali oriented.

1445, Normandy Crew Deck

As Shepard stepped off the elevator, he was greeted by Garrus, standing directly next to the Memorial wall. The Turian walked forwards, offering a datapad in his left hand and a shake with his right as the two turned to walk towards Life Support.

“Commander, glad to see you’re in one piece still. You know, that stunt with the Reaper still gets me… Even Wrex would have to admit, you’ve got a quad for doing that.”

Shepard chuckled, the two standing outside the door.

“We’re going to need more than a quad to win this war. Tell me, everything going to be alright in there? I’ve been so involved with the Quarian admirals that I don’t feel like I’ve had any time to pay attention to my own damn ship.”

By the end of the statement Shepard had moved from speaking to a friend to battling himself, his responsibilities and sensibilities as a commanding officer still struggling to accept his new, perhaps more important, diplomatic role. He knew he had other responsibilities, winning the Quarian and Geth fleets for the Coalition was a major tactical victory and made their chances that much better. But he was still listed “Commanding Officer, SSV Normandy”, and in his mind that meant little room for much else.

“Commander, we’ve had this talk before. It’s why we reorganized the ship, why we have a chain of command that works for you. Nobody’s accusing you of skirting your duties.”

The Commander sighed, in and out heavily through his mouth as he reminded himself that Garrus was right. _I know I need to take care of other things, bigger things, and while I’ll never tell him his new chain of command has worked flawlessly… I just… I’m a captain. Isn’t running this ship my job?_

Garrus cut off his thought, fiddling which a few parts of Shepard’s uniform, straightening out his shoulder pads as he spoke.

“This meeting really shouldn’t be too bad, we sustained minor damage while running between the Quarians and Geth, but nothing too serious. Crew’s still functioning well, at least as well as you can expect when the Galaxy is going to hell. Most you’ll probably see are a few maintenance summaries and I think there’s even a promotion or two in there.”

Shepard’s brow had furrowed as Garrus talked, reading over the datapad he now carried to verify what Garrus was saying. _Looks like it’s all going well… Damn if Tranning doesn’t know how to run a ship… And Vakarian’s certainly pulling his weight as XO. Honest, how many times over would I be dead without them…_

“Alright, Vakarian, let’s get this over with, fast and clean. I’ve got a date tonight.”

Garrus laughed, turning to face the door but looking over his left shoulder at Shepard, flanging his mandibles and raising his eyebrows in the Turian equivalent of a playful grin.

“Well, we wouldn’t want saving the galaxy to get in the way of that, now would we.”

Garrus opened the door, walking in to what had become the ship’s make-shift ward room. Under Cerberus the lack of a ward room had not really been a concern, Shepard trying to involve himself with the crew of the ship as little as possible, leaving most of the administration to Miranda, who used her office. But upon leaving Earth, he was confused initially at the lack of one on The Normandy, all Alliance ships having a small bit of space reserved for their officers, for both personal time as well as meetings, but upon examining the proposed plans it became clear that’s what the port observation deck was going to become… in about three months.

Thus the officers on-board came to commandeer the life-support room as their own ward-room, Spartan though it may be. The small table that used to be Thane’s had been pushed into the corner, a single chair at it and a minimal light. A larger conference table, though just big enough to fit all eight of The Normandy’s officers, sat in the middle, surrounded by the small metal chairs. Arguably the only two pieces of any personality within the room were the Alliance Flag which had been draped over-top of where Thane’s rifles used to be displayed, giving it a nice sense of gravitas with the backlighting, and the surprisingly sophisticated coffee machine which had been set up in the hallway. A long shot from Shepard’s all-it-does-is-make-coffee machine, this one appeared to be one of the fancier auto-baristas from a popular citadel café, though Shepard didn’t inquire into the issue. _Sometimes, plausible deniability is the best course of action_.

A small engineering light had been hung over the conference table by what appeared to be engineering-fastener 368 (a long descendant of Duct Tape), and gave a small amount of light over the rectangular metal surface. Garrus entered the room first, giving a sharp call “Attention on Deck!” in the Human Military Tradition (The Turian military had since disposed of the ritual in all but the most formal ceremonies), and the shuffling of chairs could be heard as all present stood to a swift military attention, the pervasive hum of the room the only sound.

Shepard walked forward, looking at the display. He stopped at the coffee machine, to Garrus’ amusement, and turned his head to speak to them while his cup filled, the smell of a dark-mocha filling his nostrils, a far cry from his typical black “coffee” (though plenty of jokes were made, due to the strength of his coffee, that perhaps cleaning solvent was a better title).

“At ease.” More movement of chairs was heard as they all took a seat again, situating various datapads in preparation for the meeting. Shepard walked over to his seat as he talked. “Thank-you all for being here again, I know these meetings can get boring, but they keep us running. Let’s get through this quickly and cleanly so that we can get back to saving the galaxy. Lieutenant Tranning, what have you got for me?”

Tranning, Shepard’s Administrative Officer (a Garrus-created position intended to catch all the more minor administrative tasks before they reached him and Shepard, a sanity-preserver, really), stood as he addressed The Commander, his tone cool and precise as he spoke.

“Sir, nothing unusual to report, and certainly not that I haven’t already given you. We are currently in orbit around Rannoch on a 27 hour period. We have made ourselves ready to depart within thirty minutes of notification, and are awaiting our next destination.”

Shepard nodded, smiling internally at the report. _I sure hope I get the opportunity to get him a medal or something, because he has been nothing but efficient. Maybe with a two by four to match Garrus’, but still, not a bad thing right now. And still flexible enough to fight this war._

“Alright, thank-you. Let’s run down the list. Engineering, what have you got for me?”

Tranning sat down, 1LT Dyphe standing up with military rigidness, making short eye contact with Tranning, his predecessor as Engineering Department Head, as he stood.

“Nothing unusual to report, sir. At 1200 hours today we completed our final systems check and are prepared for departure within thirty minutes, sir. The ship has discharged entirely, and all stealth systems have resumed normal operations, we can go silent at a moment’s notice. Finally, sir, I have a promotion which I would like to submit, MM2 Clark, sir. He has consistently performed above and beyond his duty, and I would like to give him promotion to MM1, on track for chief, sir.”

Shepard laughed slightly as the entire report was given at a strict military attention, the young man still not relaxing into the more operational atmosphere Shepard liked to keep on board the ship. _He’s young. Sometimes his protocol is all he knows, cut him some slack_.

“Very well, Lieutenant, I’ll take a look at it. And next time you give a report, stand at ease. You’re not up for review, just telling me what’s going on in the deep dark bowels of my ship. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Dyphe resumed his seat.

“Alright, Operations, anything unusual?”

2nd Lieutenant Baker stood up smartly, her trademark swagger permeating the room. Had she been born a couple hundred years earlier, and a man, she would have been said to be a sailor through and through, saltier than ocean brine and with more swagger in her step then any other crew member. Her accent came through, Brooklyn to boot and challenging Daniel’s any day.

“Nothing to report, sir, ship’s operating normally. All locked up and ready to go, on your command of course. All shift changes have gone well since we reached Rannoch, and we’ve even got a few replacement bodies waiting for us at the Citadel, next time we dock.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing more, sir.”

Shepard nodded and Baker sat down, taking a sip out of her coffee cup, glaring at some of the other officers, daring them to challenge her on her informal report. Shepard might get mad, were it not for the fact that the reports she filed via terminal were almost more thorough than Tranning’s, and whenever he approached her about an issue, it had yet to take her more than 27 hours to solve. _I’ll forgive her the informality so long as she does her job. Hell, it brings a bit of personality with it._

“Alright, ground. Mr. Vega, anything unusual to report?”

Lieutenant Vega stood, looking very uncomfortable in his position. Not only was he not fond of being considered a part of the “upper echelon of the Alliance” as his uncle had put it when he became an officer, but he was forced to put on a full service uniform, rather than just the undershirt he usually preferred. The uniform fit well on him, the rolled sleeves stretched to breaking point and the shoulder pads making him look as wide as a house, but it was clear the uniform was uncomfortable for him. Nonetheless, the man continued with the professionalism Shepard had yet learned he kept in his back pocket.

“No sir, nothing unusual to report. Our Marines are staying orderly and keeping up on their personal maintenance, we stand at full combat readiness. Corporals Mark and Hamilton completed their marksman training today, as well as a few other qualifications, but all of those are in my report, sir.”

“Very well, have a seat Mr. Vega. Finally, Tactical, how’s our war room looking?”

1LT Boyd was a thin woman, auborn hair kept short, waving on the left side of her fairly thin face. She had been transferred onto The Normandy from Alliance Intelligence, initially one of the least space-faring crew members aboard, besides Traynor, but had quickly learned her bearings, her quick wit and ambitious attitude quickly making up for any operational inexperience she suffered. She stood smartly, looking Shepard dead in the eye with piercingly sky-blue eyes as she reported.

“Nothing unusual operationally, sir. All the crew have continued to perform, and some of the… information, provided by Doctor T’Soni has proven invaluable. We did get a message from an individual named “Elizabeth” about two hours ago, took my team a little while to figure out it was a Geth Prime of all things.” The wardroom, including Shepard, chuckled. “I’ve also had disturbing news, that you might want to be aware of, sir, that there have been a few radical groups suggesting we destroy the mass relays in some systems to slow the Reapers’ travel, Aratoht style.”

Shepard stiffened as he heard the name, his palms got sweaty and his eyes glazed over. The room began to spin and he could feel his respiration pick up as he struggled to pay attention to the room. His heart pounded in his chest and he suddenly felt as though he were drowning, his brain struggling to even make sense of what words were being said, all of it becoming pastel and removed. Boyd continued.

“Apparently, some other crazy son of a bitch thinks it’s a good idea to blow up a mass relay. That one lunatic wasn’t enough.”

Shepard’s anxiety continued to grow, his vision going fuzzy as he wiped his hands on his pants, his wrist vibrating with a message from Garrus, which he piped onto the terminal in front of him.

“Stay calm, Shepard. The official reports never gave a name, she has no clue it’s you. Remember: breathe.”

He looked at the Turian, who seemed to be scrutinizing him as he focused on his breathing, slowing it consciously, eventually earning a slight nod from Garrus. Boyd halted, and Shepard looked at her, sweat appearing on his forehead as he spoke.

“Thank-you for the report Lieutenant. I… appreciate it.” He took a breath in through his mouth and out through his nose, an action which earned a few weird looks from his officers, but was excused by all but his XO for just the stress of saving the universe. He continued. “Alright, let’s talk about what’s happening next…”

The meeting continued without a hitch, no anxiety attacks for the commander, no mention of Aratoht… just routine ship business. As it continued Shepard calmed down further, eventually returning to his normal state, willfully coming close to forgetting the incident even occurred.

While walking to the mess to dispose of his cup, Garrus began talking to Shepard.

“So, Shepard, how are things between you and Tali going?”

Shepard laughed uncertainly, not really knowing what Garrus was asking him. He put the cup in the dishwasher, stowing it away properly, and turned to Garrus, leaning against the counter.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s great to see you two back together again, no doubt. But I can’t imagine things would just immediately go back to the way they were after how long you’ve been apart.”

Shepard laughed again, this time slightly nervously. Before Rannoch, the thought of how much time he and Tali had spent apart was nothing short of terrifying, a huge gap which, as far as he knew, might very well threaten to tear them apart. After what they had said, it still no longer held the same fear it did before, but it certainly wasn’t a comfortable thought for Shepard. _We’ve both spent so long apart, done so much… I know it won’t ever keep us apart, but it might not be easy either._

Shepard began to speak, tentatively.

“I’m… not certain. You’re right, we have spent a lot of time apart, and getting back together will have its own challenges. But right now, honestly? I’m just glad to have her back. I… missed her, quite a bit.”

“I know, Shepard, I know. Well, if you need me, you know where to find me. I’ve got a video conference with The Primarch in a couple of minutes. Wants to know how I killed a Reaper and what you did to help.”

Shepard laughed, gently shoving Garrus’ shoulder.

“If anybody gets credit like that, I’d have to say it’s EDI. I think she got the killshot, not you, Vakarian.”

Garrus laughed, holding his arms out as he turned around, walking backwards through the battery hallway.

“And I gave you the moral support to give her the target. Really, it’s all because of me.”

“Uh huh.”

Shepard turned and walked to the elevator, still smiling from the comment. _I don’t usually like cockiness, but Garrus manages to pull it off. He’d probably say it was because of his “winning personality” or something._

As the elevator ascended again, Shepard felt his omnitool ping, a message coming over it, from Tali.

“Got held up with the Admirals, they want my say on some colonization matters, because I know so much about farming. Will be held up, ETA 3 hours.”

The doors opened and Shepard walked into the cabin, putting away his omnitool, yawning as he stepped into his stateroom. Since their strike on the Dreadnought, Shepard’s schedule had been busy to say the least, filled with tactical meetings and briefings, coordinating conference calls and all manner of activity as he, not only tried to help the Quarians win their war, but also get what help he could from the rest of the galaxy, at the very least arrange spots in the coalition for the forces he had been hoping to secure. His schedule had become a series of three hours catnaps grabbed when he could, his diet being reduced to supplement water and energy-bars. Right before he had left for the department head meeting, Shepard had been feeling exhausted, but as he returned the feeling was magnified three fold. _Who would have guessed, running a war is exhausting. And this isn’t even my now-constant sleep deprivation, this is a new level. I don’t think I’ve been this tired since Mars…. Even Tuchanka was more restful than this._

Thinking to himself, he opened his omnitool to check his organizer, gratified to see both the urgent and the semi-urgent boxes empty. _Maybe… If she’s back in three hours, that might be just enough time for me to grab another nap, not be quite so ready to fall asleep when Tali shows up…_

Shepard took off his uniform with unusual speed, the articles being hastily placed on the back of his auxiliary desk chair rather than his usual routine of hanging them up, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only. As he crawled underneath his sheets, still rustled from the previous morning, no time to remake his bed, he set an alarm on his omnitool for three hours, and within five minutes was in a deep sleep.

1925, Normandy Deck 1

Tali entered Shepard’s stateroom, her bag slung over her shoulder, omnitool pulled up as she made sure all of her command codes had transferred to The Normandy. She got as far as the desk before she heard rustling in front of her, dropping the bag as her head darted towards the sound, her hand reaching for the pistol that was no longer strapped to her waist. When she realized what was happening, however, her hand dropped, her steps slowing as she approached the bed.

John was tandled in his sheets, the comforter thrown off of the bed and tears appearing in the sheet that was on top of him, though wrapped around was a more apt description. His arms seemed to be shuddering, flailing occasionally in front of him as he moaned softly in his sleep, his breath coming in short gasps. His legs were making motions as if to run, and his head was shaking, his brows furrowed in what appeared to be intense pain, sweat beading over his body. What was by far the most disturbing, though, were the tears that were streaking down his face, the pillow beneath him showing staining from the same.

Though Tali had gotten to sleep with John the three weeks she got to spend with him before he had left on some unnamed mission for Hackett, immediately after which he had submitted himself to The Aliance, she had never seen him have nightmares on this scale, certainly not to this intensity. He had moaned occasionally, thrashed or rolled over, even sat up in a cold sweat a few times, but never had she seen him in this kind of a state. _Keelah, whatever he’s going through… it’s bad._

She tentatively sat down on the bed, leaning over to grip both of his wrists as they pumped powerfully in front of him, his body giving in easily to the guiding force as she held them gently to his chest. Still holding them with one hand, she brought her other hand to his face, gently holding his cheek as he turned into the movement, tears still streaming down his face. She spoke as softly as she could while still getting his attention, with all the concern she felt being channeled into the one, softly firm command.

“John, wake up.”

John turned his head into her hand, moaning as he heard his name, his eyelids fluttering, but still not quite gaining consciousness.

Tali spoke again, louder.

“John, please, wake up.”

He turned some more, but his eyes peaked open, if only for a second. Tali knew she was making progress. She began to stroke his cheek, gripping his hands in what she hoped he could feel as reassuring.

“John, it’s Tali. It’s alright, you’re safe. John, wake up. It’s time to get up John.”

With a gasp of breath, John’s eyes shot wide open, earning a startled bark from Tali as he sat straight up as rapidly as he could, gasping for breath as though he had just run a marathon. He looked around, his eyes glazed and confused, but also filled with an animalistic panic, darting left and right , head tilting as he regarded Tali. He stared at her as his breathing started to calm, his face remaining concerned but understanding coming into his eyes as he continued to stare at her, licking his lips. Tali spoke again, softly.

“John, you looked like you were having a nightmare.”

John looked down at the bed, regarding the torn sheets around him, nodding slightly. His breath was still not normal, still deeper and faster, but at the very least the panic was gone from his eyes. _Whatever’s goin on, that’s a start._

Tali scooted closer to him on the bed, drawing him into a hug. His torso bent without resistance, his head turning until she was cradling him, holding his head close to her chest. She began to rock slightly and John rocked with her, his breathing slowly coming down as Tali continued the motion. Eventually, he was breathing normally, and she let him go. He sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Tali had seen similar poses from him before, knees bent with his elbows resting casually on top, but this was not the casual position of a confident man. Instead the position made Shepard look vulnerable, small, as though he was trying to hold himself together against a storm.

Tali took his cheek in her hand, moving his head so that she was looking him in the eye.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

John shook his head, bowing it down ashamedly.

“No, I…”

His voice was raspy, dry, pained. He had to swallow a few times before he started again.

“No, I should be fine. I need to be fine.”

Tali picked up on the familiar tone in his voice, the self-berating sound of “I have to be” and “I should be”. It was the tone he used when he convinced himself he wasn’t good enough, when he tried to push himself farther by mentally belittling himself.

She moved so that she was all the way on the bed, sitting beside him, wrapping her left arm around him and sitting forward, bowing her head so that she could see his face.

“John, it’s just me. You don’t need to be anything but yourself. What happened, what’s wrong.”

John shook his head again, a bitter movement filled with self-loathing. Again, the I-have-to-be tone and the convinced inadequacy in his voice.

“No, Tali, it’s fine. I don’t want to bother you with this, you’ve got enough problems on your own. I’ll just… be stronger.”

Tali’s response was almost immediate, spoken with care and love, concern for the warrior of whom so much was expected but who was still only mortal.

“I’m here, John, for you. I want to be with you, I love you. Don’t crawl up inside yourself because you don’t want to burden me with whatever it is that’s hurting you. I want to help, no matter what it is. I’m here for you. You don’t have to be strong or be Commander Shepard with me. You’re John, my John. Please, let me help. What’s going on?”

John lifted his head to look at her, his eyes moistening slightly, at both what he heard her say as well as the trouble he had admitting what had happened. He took a deep breath, in through his mouth and then out through his nose. His voice wavering and cracking occasionally as he talked to Tali, fixing his gaze on the green door access panel.

“I was having a nightmare… about Earth, the collector base, Aratoht, all of it. Just in one, giant ball.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It just… most of the time I manage to push forward, live in what’s happening now, what I’m doing that’s good. But when I sleep, dream, I can’t help but see the faces of them. All the ones I’ve killed. They all just… look at me, staring. They don’t even say anything, I think that’s the worst part. If they were accusing me, yelling, I might be able to yell back, fight them. But they don’t need to, because I know what I’ve done.”

His voice hitched, his breathing speeding back up again as his hands began to fidget slightly, a habit he had picked up from Tali. She put her gloved hand over his two, grasping them firmly, trying to give him the strength to say what he needed.

“I’ve tried so hard to save them, to save them all. I never wanted them to die, never wanted anybody to die. I didn’t become a soldier to kill, I became a soldier to protect, to serve. I just… wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough, to protect them all. I didn’t work hard enough, didn’t give enough of myself to bring them home safely. How people seem to think I can win this war is beyond me, because I couldn’t even save them. I’ve doomed so many, Tali… So many…”

With that John’s resolve broke, and light tears came back, running down his face as he sobbed gently, his breath ragged but quiet. Tali pulled him in for another hug, making it as tight as she could, rubbing his back and rocking as he released emotionally, something she was certain he hadn’t done in a long time. Once he quieted down, she began to talk.

“John… John, the people who think you can win this war think you can do so because they’ve seen you. They know you’re not a soldier who joined to kill and who revels in warfare. You have saved so many, and are so strong, that they have faith that you can do it. I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better, I wish I knew how to help… but you’re so much more, so much better than you give yourself credit. Don’t… don’t beat yourself for not being all powerful. You are a strong, compassionate, determined man who has saved more lives than almost anybody else in the galaxy. You’re the soldier who makes peace and ends wars, who has made it farther than anybody ever has in uniting the galaxy. Don’t forget that, Keelah, please don’t forget that.”

John nodded into her chest, still working to bring his breath under control.

“John, why haven’t you seen anybody for this?”

He sat up, wiping his eyes with a shred of sheet nearby.

“I have. Chakwas gave me pills to take before I sleep to make it more… bearable. I just forgot to take them this time.”

Tali looked at him, concerned and worried, wishing she could help more. She put both her hands back onto his, taking them into her own.

“You know you don’t have to hide this, right? I’m here to help, in any way I can.”

“I know Tali… The doctors… The Doctors diagnosed me with… with PTSD.”

John caught on the words, his breath coming quickly as he said them, clearly a hard acknowledgement for him. He continued.

“I hate… talking, about it, because it makes me feel broken. I’m supposed to be the man who can save the galaxy, who is supposed to stand against the reapers and unite all the races against them. I’m supposed to be this great warrior and… well… great warriors don’t have bad dreams. They aren’t supposed to be haunted by the things they’ve done, they aren’t supposed to be twitchy or hate the sound of insects because it… sets them off. They’re not supposed to be broken. Not like I am.”

Tali took a deep breath, sighing underneath her mask. _He is the farthest thing from broken… and I don’t know what to do. I’d go to hell and back with this man, some might even say I already have, but I still feel so helpless… Ancestors’, help me say what needs to be said…_ Tali began to speak slowly, each sentence coming out with sincerity and pauses in between the phrases as she thought what she was going to say, stroking the back of his hands with her thumbs as she spoke.

“John… I’m not a psychologist, and certainly not a human one. I will not pretend to understand exactly what you’re going through. I’m not going to pretend to have all the answers, and I admit I have… few, solutions. But, what I do know… is that we will make it through… this, together, that you are not alone, and that you _will_ get better with time. Even if it takes until the end of this damned war, you will get better. But you’re also not broken, just… sick. Quarians have a similar issue, and it is not the sign of a broken man or an inadequate soldier… It’s the sign of… a man who has seen things he never wanted to, gone through things nobody ever should for the good of the galaxy. Your mind wasn’t meant to see that, wasn’t intended to deal with Reapers and Collectors, but you’re strong enough that you make it.”

_Keelah, this is hard, I feel like I’m getting lost, rambling. Alright, Tali, pull this back together, for Shepard. He’s done so much for so many, he deserves to be saved for once. Go, save him from himself._

“If you’re okay with it, I’d like to do some researth to find out what you’re going through, would like to understand it further so I can help. Would you be okay with that?”

John thought for a moment, and then nodded, slowly, looking back to her with eyes that implored her to keep going, said that she was making progress, making him feel loved, wanted, everything he had not been a few minutes ago. This was going to be a hard battle, and one which could not be won for quite a while, because the galaxy needed Commander Shepard, not John, but it was one which he no longer had to fight alone, and that was worth more than he could ever say.

_Bring him home, Tali._

“I will do everything I can to help you, John, will be with you every step of the way as you make your way through this. I will need you to be open with me, I can’t help if I don’t know what you’re going through, but I will always be here, to support you when you need it. I can’t argue with you not wanting to admit this to anybody else… I do… would do, the same thing. But I’m not everybody else John, you can share it with me. I will never judge you for how you feel, just help you to get through it, okay?”

John nodded again, this time smiling as he heard her speak, his heart warming with the words.

_You’ve made progress Tali, you may have even won this battle. Now let him process, let him work through it, but not right now. He’s too close… find something else._

Her voice took on a more light-hearted tone as she stood in front of John, still grasping his hands as she did so, tapping the top of her visor to his forehead as he closed his eyes at the feeling, the cold, hard material more reassuring than anything he had felt in a long while.

“Now, unless I’m mistaken, I was promised dinner and a C-rate Horror Vid?”

Shepard smiled, opening his eyes to look at her, tapping his lips to her speaker light as he stood up, pulling her in for a tight hug. He leg her go, hanging his head as he chuckled slightly. _I don’t know how, but she manages to make me believe those things, things others have said and I’ve always dismissed. Maybe I’m not broken, maybe I’m just… sick. And if there’s anybody who can make me better, make me feel… whole, again, it’s her._

“Yes, yes you were. How does ‘Return of the Omnibeings from the Seventeenth Dimension’ sound?”

While he spoke, he got dressed, putting on his pants and tucking the elastic shin portions into his boots, fastening them and tucking away the excess straps. Instead of reaching for the uniform blouse, though, he walked over to his dresser and pulled out his N7 hoodie, a gift from Anderson as soon as he had completed the program, a little cheap, perhaps a little worn (also responsible for sparking the trend of N7’s on all of his civilian attire), but entirely home.

Tali laughed, walking over to the couch to pick up the left-over shirt, hanging it back up and putting it in the closet.

“That sounds wonderful. What about dinner?”

“I’ll run down to the mess, grab us something to eat and drink. You mind tracking down the movie?”

“Not at all. And, I hope you don’t mind, John, I pulled my stuff up here, I had a suspicion you wouldn’t mind me staying here…”

Tali’s voice was an odd combination of tentative and confident that only Tali could master, equally asking for permission and demanding acceptance that only made Shepard laugh a little.

“We may need some new sheets… I really seem to have done a number on them…”

“It’s okay. I’ve got a suit. I don’t know what you intend to do for temperature, but I’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, glad to see you’re so concerned for my welfare. Appreciated.”

“Always, John. Now go get us something to eat, I’m starving.”

John walked over, again planting a kiss on her filter light before making his way to the door, pausing right before.

“Tali?”

She paused, looking up from the searching she was doing for the movie, head tilted curiously.

“Yes?”

“Thanks. For… everything.”

“We’re a team, John. You can always trust me with anything, count on me to have your back. You need me, I’ll be there.”

“Still… thanks. And I hope you know the same goes for me too. I… missed, our team. The field was getting pretty lonely on my own.”

“I know John. And we may get hurt, but we’ll be there to patch each other up, behind the lines, convince each other it will all be okay and prop us up as we get back on the field. But at the end of the day, I have yet to think of anything that has a good enough defense for us.”

“I love you, Tali.”

She made a swatting motion with her hand, urging him out of the room.

“Apparently not enough to feed me! Go, I’m starving!”

As John rode the elevator down, one thought occupied his mind. _I’m part of a team, a team of two that I’ve needed for so long. I’m going to have to work on being open again, that time Garrus was talking about has closed me off. But I missed my teammate, and I’m the luckiest man alive to have her._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while to get out, it had to stew in my brain for a little bit longer, and I’m still not entirely certain it’s as good as it could be. 
> 
> The first part is what I like to call “Normandy Fluff”, so sorry about that. I’ve always been really curious about how things operated on the Normandy, so sometimes I can’t resist writing a little bit about it, making it seem more like a ship than just a home-base for a game’s main character. If you want to see more about the chain of command my Normandy uses, read my story “Beginning the Fight”, establishes how Shepard runs his ship.
> 
> I also thought it’d be interesting to play around a bit with Shepard having PTSD, something which I don’t think is too infeasible. I realize it’s a delicate matter, and I hope I covered it well… If that part was offensive or poorly done, or you have anything that you think could make it better, please: tell me! I want to know.
> 
> This is part of a two-part sequence, given the same names because they both really cover John and Tali establishing the foundation for their relationship, moving beyond just how much they love each other to produce a functional, beneficial, and (at least I think so) kick-ass relationship. The second part will be, naturally, more Tali-oriented, so anticipate that in a few days or so. 
> 
> Oh, and I will be rereading for mild grammar errors and whatnot sometime in the next two weeks or so. I like to do so eventually, but usually I’m more eager to get what’s in my brain onto a page and out to the world for review, thus just about everything I put out is in pure first-draft form. Sorry, but I’ll get to the more pedantic grammar-y stuff eventually!
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed it, and please tell me what you think!
> 
> Oh, and I will be rereading for mild grammar errors and whatnot sometime in the next two weeks or so. I like to do so eventually, but usually I’m more eager to get what’s in my brain onto a page and out to the world for review, thus just about everything I put out is in pure first-draft form. Sorry, but I’ll get to the more pedantic grammar-y stuff eventually!
> 
> SotS


	6. Foundations Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali deals with some of her emotional demons, John steps in to help.

N5 Training Handbook, Module 7 – Psychological States of Alien Allies

17th Edition, Published 2187

Combat is a trial which requires not only physical skill at arms, but, and especially for any ICT graduate, leadership as well. It is no secret to any combat-experienced Marine that a well led team can be a highly effective tool on the battlefield, certainly more so than a group of independently acting combatants.

Systems Alliance Operatives commonly work closely with other races, cooperating with such groups as the Salarian Special Tasks Group, the Turian Blackwatch, or occasionally (and especially after the reclamation of Rannoch) Migrant Fleet Marines, to achieve top-priority missions and goals, making it necessary for Operatives to understand the psychological responses to different stimuli. This module is designed to provide Operatives the necessary training to effectively lead alien teams and a functional-understanding of the differences in other races’ mental states.

Chapter 1 – Stress Responses

Summary

Stress responses different greatly among species, and are one of the leading causes for combat failure and breakdown of operative teams. Thus, it is necessary to understand different species’ responses to the stressful situations as may be involved in and directly after combat. First: a summary of the various responses, before going into more detail about the psychological processes and symptoms of each species.

 Turians – Turian stress responses are unique insofar as they are those of a highly developed predator. The emotional centers of the Turian Brain are closely related to those areas associated with motor skills and logic processing, leading to the seemingly counter-intuitive (at least to humans) response that, when put under emotional strain, Turians experience an increase in physical and mental ability. Common symptoms of Turian emotional volatility or activity are a rapid increase in speed, strength, and fine motor control, as well as a large resurgence of logic and critical thinking. This is not to say that the individuals are not aware of their emotions but, rather than experiencing the “blinding” or “blurring” of their rational processes, as many humans describe, a Turians’ emotions actually work to make them more combat effective. After a stressful event, Turians may often describe a state of incredible fatigue, a frustration with a loss of skills, or a pessimistic and negative out-look due to a resurgence in controlling factor neuro-transmitters.

Asari – Asari stress responses manifest in a lack of typical separation between emotion and logic, traits for which the Asari have become rather known. Asari emotional centers are exceptionally removed from the rest of their brain, allowing them a great deal of separation between emotional states and other cognitive functions. This, combined with a socially-constructed emphasis on separation of the heart and mind, marks the Asari as one of the most emotionally-controlled races in the galaxy. When Asari are placed under stress, however, the concentration of emotional neuro-transmitters increases almost exponentially, resulting in a large and thorough integration of the emotional centers into other cognitive processes, resulting in a sudden burst of emotion that may, if the individual has not experienced it before, prove extremely disconcerting. This can manifest itself in rapid emotional outbursts (occasionally accompanied by the use of biotics), seeming irrational or unusual actions, and a distinctive loss of the typical “cool” associated with the race. After stressful events, Asari often go into times of serious meditation, or at the very least isolation, followed by positive emotional-outbursts (manifesting in statements of love, friendship, etc.) which, while no less genuine, are caused by a resurgence of dopamine-like neuro-transmitters to equalize their brain’s chemistry.

Quarian – Quarian stress responses are fairly unique among the races of the galaxy, having outbursts similar to the Asari, physical and cognitive responses similar to the Turians, and post-stress reactions similar to humans. The Quarian emotional centers are fairly removed from the rest of their brains, however sit closely to the logic and motor-control centers of the brain, similar to Asari neuro-physiology. However, unlike the Asari, Quarian brains contain three to five bridges into these emotional centers. This causes their emotions to remain at a low-intensity for the majority of the time, but also means that these emotional centers are constantly “collecting” emotional information. This information is dealt with at the last part of the Quarian sleep cycle, commonly called as “Truiten utlan’ar” or “Parade of Ghosts”, during which individuals remain conscious but undergo periods of intense emotional swings, a result of their psyche’s attempting to process emotional information, similar to the dreaming process in humans. However, if subjected to incredible emotional strain, Quarians can exhibit outbursts similar to those of Asari, massive in comparison to typical human emotional states, which also result in an increase in motor and logic-skills. After stressful events, it is common for Quarians to appear to quickly resume a state of homeostasis, resuming normal functions and duties with regular, if not increased, performance. However, they are often trying to cope with their emotional processes during their “Truiten utlan’ar”, a process which can prove personally incredibly difficult and is not unlike the human Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

0400, Normandy Engineering Sub-deck

Tali sat on the ground, leaning back against the paneling behind her. She stared straight ahead, working to control her breathing, failing every time a new sob came up, racking her chest. Her eyes had almost run-dry, what had begun as intense tears turning into quiet streams, running down her cheeks with unspoken grief. _All gone… All of them. Just like that, evaporated, torn away…_

She had slipped out of John’s cabin, not wanting to wake him as she felt the familiar signs of a grief-attack threaten the edges of her still slightly-groggy mind. _I don’t want to wake him. Ancestors know, he’s got enough without me whining to him._ She hadn’t even bothered to replace the fabric around her suit as she slipped down the sub-deck, avoiding all crewmembers as she made her way down to the most isolated part of the ship, the part where she could be alone. _Alone, with my ghosts. So many ghosts…_

Her mind swam with images of her team on Haestrom, all dead. The crew of the Alarei, her father… all dead. Even legion, his crumpled form reaching for the sunset he would never see rise. Dead. All of them; gone. Blinking out of existence like a light being turned off. _So simple, so small. They deserved so much better, they didn’t deserve to die. They deserved the homeworld Our homeworld. Their homeworld. Keelah, why weren’t they there, why did they have to go…_

Her mouth had stopped tasting, her hands gone clammy and cold. Everything seemed to have lost its color, the world falling into a grey malaise, blending everything with itself, with everything else. _What does it even matter, anyways? We’re all just going to die eventually. Either naturally or because of this damned war. Might as well have been for something. Maybe they were lucky, in that way…_

As her thoughts broiled inside of her, Tali could feel the pain in her chest sharpen, her brain pushing forth with another outburst of emotions, the feelings wracking her chest as new sobs and new gasps for breath came through. She had turned off her suit’s speakers, preferring to suffer in the peace and quiet she found down here, but the pain was not helped by the isolation. She could feel her grief burrow into the pit of her stomach like a drill, wiping away herself and leaving only sorrow and guilt, an empty pain that could find no balm. Her chest felt tight, constricted, as though she had to gasp for every breath just to get air, just to stay alive. _Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed alive. What if I deserved to die? What makes me worth more than them? What am I, a girl who thinks she’s special because she abandoned her people and managed to kill a few Geth? Those were good men, good friends, I will never be as good as them. I’m not even worth half of them._

Tali’s fist came down with alarming speed on her own thigh, causing her to wince at the pain as she beat into her leg again, and again, pounding against the inequity of the universe and the despair of the inevitability of death. _I don’t want them to go… don’t want them to be gone. Keelah, they should have been there. Why?! Why weren’t they there?! That world was theirs, that was what they were sacrificing for, what they paid for! They should have been there!_

Her sobs came again as her arm stopped, bruises already beginning to start to form on the top of her leg as her arm fell to her side, devoid of energy. She slouched, sliding farther down on the panel as all of her energy, her passion, seemed to evaporate as quickly as it appeared, her body turning Grey and tasteless and soundless just like the rest of the world. _Just like the rest of it… I’m nothing special. Maybe I’ll just sit here… I’m not needed, Adams knows what he’s doing and I’m not even a real admiral, not really. I’m just… Tali. Little, old, worthless Tali._

As she sat, she missed the sound of the doors above the stairs opening, the boots stepping softly down the stairs. Tali hung her head, an intense feeling of hopelessness overcoming her. She felt as though she was drowning, the world over taking her senses and her abilities, losing her in its own immense magnitude as she fought against a current that she could never best. _Why do we even try? We’re not going to win… We’re helpless against this, against The Reapers. We’ve killed one, but out of how many? How many millions more are there, and how in Ancestors’ Will could we ever hope to destroy them all with just a single weapon…? Hopeless.  It’s just… hopeless._

As a shadow came down the lights, moving slowly, hearing the shifting and adjusting of a familiar enviro-suit as Tali worked to calm her breathing, at the very least just stop the pain. Her limbs felt heavy, like lead, attached to her as shackles to a prisoner, chaining her, restraining her. _Restraining me to what? Life? This miserable excuse for existence which is filled with nothing but death and destruction and loss…?_ Her chest burned with feelings of grief and heartache, too many holes in too many places, carved by too many bullets and too many last breaths. She felt the emptiness inside her own heart, the spaces left by her friends and family, the seats at her own round table that would never be filled. These were the seats reserved for the people she loved, the people she trusted, and there were so many empty… _Keelah, so many. And when they died I just moved on, just picked up my gun and kept going… I’m a terrible friend, I didn’t even mourn their deaths except for their funerals. Maybe I really should have joined them, maybe I really don’t deserve to live._

Tali was interrupted in her thoughts by movement coming down the stairs. She looked away immediately, hiding her face despite her visor, ashamed of what she looked like, what she was doing. She turned on her suit’s audio with a voice command, the thrumming of the mass effect core and the occasional steps of the engineering crew above her piercing through the silence she had been keeping inside her helmet. With a bland voice, devoid of all emotion, she spoke.

“Adams, if that’s you I’m just taking a bit of personal time. Let me know if you need my help.”

A voice came through her helmet that caused her to slowly turn her head, eyes raising to those of her addressor.

“Tali? Are you… okay? I heard you get up this morning, thought I heard… crying.”

Again, the robotic voice, controlled by her logical mind as her emotions continued to broil inside, tearing her apart with her own guilt and sadness.

“I’m fine, John.”

John looked at her, his brow furrowed as she spoke. That expression quickly turned to one of ultimate concern, one he wore as he came and sat down on Tali’s right side, staring at the other end of the sub-deck with her, asking again. Tone softer this time, more concerned.

“Tali… are you okay?”

Tali heard the question, but just stared at John for a few seconds afterwards, a new feeling being thrown into the storm she was already battling. _What does he care? He cares, Tali. You know he does. Talk to him, he can help. Nobody can help, I’m just hopless. No Tali, not for him. I don’t deserve help. You deserve him. I need to be alone. You love him._

She bowed her head, her breath becoming gasps again after she had regained control, another wave of gut-wrenching grief coming again. Immediately she felt Johns left arm go around her, pulling her in to a hug. She gave in, the part of her brain that had spoken out when he came in gaining ground as he kissed the top of her helmet and stroked her back, rocking her back and forth as she continued to cry.

After what felt like an eternity, Tali felt herself calming down, her mind returning to its normal state, the veritable tsunami of sorrow and grief and woe and heartbreak and loss receding back into the back of her mind, a roar becoming nothing more than a buzz that could be ignored, controlled. She moved to sit up and John let her, still not relinquishing his grip but just scooting closer. She looked at him.

“Thank… Thank-you. I’m sorry you had to see that, I didn’t want to bother you. Didn’t want to wake you.”

John cut her off, his voice as soft as she had heard it.

“Tali, if you’re about to say that I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about your problems, I’m just going to say right now that I’ve always got time for you. I love you, and I want to help. Whatever you’re going through, I want to help you every step of the way.”

Tali laughed, sadly, slightly, at his anticipation of what she was going to say. She laid her head against his chest, putting her left arm around him as he resumed stroking her back. He had become her anchor, her rock, in a storm of agony and anguish, and she still wasn’t ready to let go. She heard his voice again.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tali did a mental self-check, making sure that what had just overcome her was indeed stowed away back where it belonged, her rational mind and more positive emotions prevailing again, bringing her closer to her normal self. _I can tell him. He deserves to know._

She sat up, looking at John and taking his right hand in hers, playing with it as she talked.

“John, do you know how Quarians deal with their emotions?”

John looked at her, pulling from the back of his brain for any amount of information he might still have on the subject, foggy facts surfacing from the back of his brain.

“I remember seeing something in one of the new N-program handbooks about it… Do you mind telling me?”

Tali’s voice had regained its normal modulation, moving up and down as she explained the subject, normal emotions present, no longer overwhelming her to the point where her voice was just a piece of biological hardware.

“Our emotions tend to be very low intensity most of the time, something about the ways it’s connected to our brain. Normally, they just sort of sit there like a little reminder, like feeling slightly too hot or too cold: not enough to change how you perform, but just barely there.”

“Okay…”

“When we encounter something… stressful, they spike, strongly. We get these bouts of extreme passion, which I’ve heard make us slightly stronger and smarter, some old survival instinct, I think. Either way, afterwards, we return back to normal, but the emotions haven’t gone away.”

“Alright, I’m assuming there’s a part where they do?”

“Yes. Unlike humans, we don’t necessarily dream. We sleep, but the end of our sleep is when the emotional centers of our brain process what’s happened.”

“That sounds like dreaming. From what I understand humans dream in order to  deal with our emotions and prepare us for whatever our brain is anticipating.”

“It’s not quite like that, mainly because we’re conscious.”

John’s face erupted into an expression of perfect confusion, the thought of that kind of a sleep-state taking place while the brain is constant entirely foreign to him.

“What?”

Tali giggled at his face, his tone sounding as shocked as his face was.

“The more cognitive parts of our brains regain consciousness while the emotional parts remain in a state of sleep. I think. Another survival feature. But the main point is, that’s when our emotions come out the strongest, when our minds are trying to deal with them. Sometimes, when you’re happy or in love or feeling positive, it can be a very pleasant time. But other times…”

John watched as her face fell, imagining the expression behind the mask from the curve of the eyes.

“Other times, the not so good feelings come out.”

Tali’s speech was quiet, almost a whisper but with the tiniest amount of breath.

“Yeah. Like this morning.”

John began stroking Tali’s arm as he pressed his forehead to her visor, causing her eyes to shut.

“What happened this morning, Tali?”

She looked at him, the sincere care and love in her face. She felt safe and warm, cared for, not nearly as hopeless. The warmth spread from the back of her mind to the rest of her, so different from the cold drowning she had felt before. She gripped his hands a little tighter, double checking herself as she prepared to tell him, making sure she wouldn’t break down again.

“I started thinking about all the good people we’ve lost getting here. All the deaths. My team on Haestrom, The Alarei, my Father, Legion… so many. It got a little… overwhelming.”

John brought Tali in to a tight hug again, her eyes closing, but with joy at the feeling not sadness. She may have been describing what was causing her depression earlier, but the circumstances, the feeling of warmth and hope and strength she found in herself that John could re-ignite inside her, blocked out the sadness. John spoke, softly, caringly.

“Tali, you’ve already seen me at my worst. And you helped me through it, and have continued to. I’m here to do the same for you, okay? I will do everything I can to help you through this. Even if all I can do is give you a hug and tell you I love you, I will do that until my voice is gone if it helps.”

While not as dire a situation, since Tali had appeared to calm down, John’s mind was still racing as he spoke, ardently not wanting to say anything wrong. _Tell her you’ll be there, John, that you’ll help in any way you can. She was there for you when you needed it the most, now it’s your turn._

“I will always have time, always make the time, to help you. Granted, I’m going to need your help, you’re going to have to tell me how you’re feeling and what I can do, because I’m not you, I’m not even Quarian. But I will do everything in my power to help you. Hell, I’ll even pull Spectre Status on a psychologist if I have to.”

Tali giggled at the joke. John’s mind continued to race. _Alright, bring her home, John. Get her home._

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to find out as much as I can about your different psychology, see what ways there are for me to help. But mainly, I need you to know this, Tali: You’re not alone. Never. You said it yourself: we’re a team. And teammates help each other. I will help you kill as many Reapers as you want any day, but I’m also here to make sure you’re okay, to give you a rock to hold onto when things get rough, okay?”

Tali nodded, smiling inside. “We’re a team, John. And I love that.”

John smiled back at her. “I do too. And there’s nothing that can stop us when we work as a team. I admit, I’m going to have to work on being a little more open, and maybe you will too, I think we both may have gotten a little more used to playing by ourselves. But we’re a team. And I love that too, almost as much as I love you.”

John kissed Tali’s speaker light as she giggled and spoke, one of the weird things about their agreed substitute for a traditional kiss the fact that Tali could still speak during it, something which still caught John a little off guard. “That was super sappy, John.”

John levelled Tali with a look, his left eyebrow cocking up. “Are you complaining?”

Tali angled her head, her voice becoming increasingly sarcastic. “Not necessarily…”

“Good, because I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” He stood up, offering a hand to Tali, as she took it and stood up he began to talk, taking her hand and walking to the stairs. “Come on, I got some coffee brewing along with whatever that is you drink in the morning. Still don’t understand why it smells like popcorn.”

“Chirality difference, John, I’m surprised you can even smell it at all. And it’s malnuc, it’s a sweet hot drink made from some of the fruit on Palaven. Primarily Turian, but I grew to like it.”

“Does it have caffeine?”

“I think so, yes.”

“So it’s Quarian coffee?”

“You’re not trying any.”

“Damn.”

The door opened, and as they waited for the elevator, Tali could only think of one thing. _This is my team, John’s right. I’m going to have to work to remember that we’re a team, but Keelah do I love having this team, and am lucky beyond my own dreams to have him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that got a little heavy. Just like Part 1, if any of you feel I’ve misrepresented what can only be described as a state of depression (alien though it may be), please let me know – I don’t want to insult or belittle or misrepresent anything, it just seems fitting for the character.   
> I realize there was a little bit of double-explanation with the whole “way Quarian emotions work” thing, but it seemed natural to the conversation, part of that trust-building foundation that John and Tali are working on, definitely something she would share.   
> One of my big goals with the Foundation chapters was to establish John and Tali as equals in their relationship. I worked to do that with some of the earlier chapters too, making John a little less dominant (as he has to be in the games because he’s the main character) and putting them on a bit more of an equal emotional footing, but one of the things I really want to do with their relationship is keep them very equal. So, not only does Tali help John through his PTSD, but John does the same for Tali with the ways her mind manifests some of the things she has had to deal with.   
> Inventing the alien psychology was fun, definitely an exercise in creative thinking. I’ve got some more material on the differences between the races, no matter how inherently similar they seem, that I hope to use later, I think one of the things the games don’t quite explore are the differences in sentient, “humanoid” life that could evolved from different environments. Hopefully that first part was more interesting than just boring, but was definitely intended to set up the rest of the story so you didn’t just open cold into a depressed Tali.   
> Hope you enjoyed it, please tell me what you think!  
> SotS


	7. Reconstruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali and John have a bit of a dinner-date as they begin building (or rebuilding) their relationship.

2200, Normandy CIC, In-Orbit around Rannoch

Shepard stood at his terminal on the CIC, watching as Lieutenant Tranning pulled up a display of Rannoch, using the control pad to manipulate the display, observing various aspects of ship’s orbits around the planet. He turned towards Shepard with crisp intensity, his eyes flashing with intelligence and anticipation.

“Sir, we have a flight plan ready to take us out of Rannoch per your order which has been forwarded to your terminal. Upon your word, we are approximately three hours from departure.”

“Lieutenant, I’m giving the word.”

Shepard closed his panel down, taking a step back and smiling at the Lieutenant, the man’s eyes tracking he walked towards the elevator.

“Aye, sir!”

Tranning snapped a tidy salute, returned quickly by Shepard as he lingered a minute to watch Tranning initiate all pre-flight checks and last-minute confirmations, opening the elevator as he heard his voice echo over ship-wide comms.

“All hands, this is Lieutenant Tranning. Make ready to depart from Rannoch. All department heads, report readiness condition within two hours; all crew-compartments, stow gear and report in. Tranning out.”

Shepard keyed Deck 1 into the elevator, the machine moving smoothly, but slowly, down a deck. While he was the captain of the Normandy, their chain of command meant that it was rare for him to command the ship as a deck-officer, that responsibility being left up to the Officer of the Deck under normal circumstances, and the Administrative Officer under unusual ones, such as leaving the orbit of a planet. This initially annoyed Shepard at first, compacting his feelings of distance from the ship, his ship, but as he spent more and more time on board, as the crew grew closer and the occasionally cumbersome strict rank and file of military doctrine morphed into a stream-lined well-ordered, well-disciplined combat team, he came to take pride in the fact that it was not necessary for him to be present for his ship to operate. _They really don’t need me. Granted, they wouldn’t know where to go, but they still don’t need me to run this ship._

The door opened and Shepard stepped forward, through the small waiting room, coming to rest at his chair where he pulled up his terminal. Immediately after Rannoch, there had been a reduction in the flow of traffic into his inbox, the typical deluge of political positioning and governmental squabbling taking a small down-turn for reasons beyond Shepard’s knowledge. But as the week they had remained in orbit progressed, agreed upon between Shepard and Hackett as necessary to make sure the Quarians and Geth played nice, the traffic had picked back up to its normal volume. Shepard was once again seemingly always busy, constantly helping a galaxy which had never seen this level of unification play nicely.

His desk had, with the increase in work, gotten likewise cluttered, his workspace being flooded by datapads and coffee cups, even a few pieces of armor and rifle upgrades to boot. It was not an unholy mess the way he had seen some other officers’ desks, his mind somehow reminding precisely where everything was within the mess, but it was certainly a far-cry from the normally organized workspace he preferred to keep. On the original Normandy, and before, his datapads had found themselves organized into neat stacks, even occasionally put in bins, a tidy desk to help him keep his mind thusly, the montra from his mother playing out in his brain “A tidy desk shows a tidy mind, and a tidy mind is a productive man.” Since he had left Earth, though, his desk (and his mind as well) had been anything but tidy, filling with the organized chaos of politics in face of a burning galaxy.

Until now, the undercurrent of stressful frustration his messy desk had caused him had gone ignored, pushed to the back of his mind as he continued to work through it. But as he sat down and reached for the cup of coffee he had left to go check in with the bridge-crew during shift-change, he found he had to try three of the four identical white mugs on his desk before he could finally find the drink. _This is my last straw? Not the mess nor the lack of efficiency nor the mental unrest it causes, but not being able to find my coffee? John, you’re a strange man…_

He set to work putting his desk in order, sorting his datapads into neat stacks at the edge of his desk, each representing different priorities and sub-categorized by date, the coffee cups being disposed of onto the couch-table to later be washed. His rifle mods found their way to his drawers, his armor pieces into the odds-and-ends bin he kept of pieces which had neither a specific place nor categorization. As he was three-quarters of the way through, he heard his door opening, not turning to look as he continued to set everything to almost laughably precise right angles.

“Shepard, are you cleaning?”

Tali walked forwards to the desk over by his bed, the possessions that had been on it since being distributed around the cabin so as to make a workspace for Tali, setting the datapads she was carrying under her arm down. She also set down two lumps of tinfoil that looked suspiciously like plates, a thought which caused Shepard’s stomach to growl, causing him to quickly  push it out of his mind. She turned to face him, tilting her head and placing her hands on her hips, staring at him through the wall of models. He looked up at her.

“And if I am?”

“I’ll say us defeating the Reapers will be the second miracle of this war.”

Shepard laughed slightly, stopping his hands as leaned back in his chair, regarding Tali. Her suit was not as dirty as it usually was coming up from engineering, the occasional smear of grease or lubricant missing from her gloves, the tools in her toolbelt likewise spotless. _Must have been a quiet day in Engineering._

“You know, before the galaxy went to hell, my desk used to be pretty clean.”

“Uh huh” She sounded far from convinced.

“Really! Ask my bunkmates back on the Logan, I kept my stateroom exceptionally organized.”

“John, I’ll believe it when I see it. Now get down here, I brought you something.”

“If that’s dinner, I am eternally grateful.”

John stood up, walking down and working to clear the table in-between the seats as Tali turned and picked up the plates, setting them down on the cleared spots. She removed the tinfoil, crumpling it up and setting it to the side. Shepard’s plate was filled with some generic meat which he cared to neither think about nor inquire as to which it actually was, recognizing it as Alliance Protein Ration #42. Besides it sat a lump of re-hydrated mashed potatoes, and finally a green patty of what appeared to be processed spinach – Alliance Vegetable Ration #10, colloquially called the “Salad Puck”.  Tali’s plate held two food tubes, one of which appeared to be steaming hot, the other almost liquid in nature. The plate caused Shepard to tilt his head.

“Tali, why did you get yours on a plate.

She looked at him and spoke matter-of-factly.

“I accidentally heated one too much, and couldn’t find a towel to carry it with. A plate works as well, this composite has great thermal properties.”

“I’m glad you approve of our plates.”

Tali chuckled a little bit, opening the liquid food tube before inserting it into a port on the bottom of her helmet which had extended after she sat down. The tubes themselves seemed to be a larger version of the syringes used by 21st century doctors, about two centimeters in width and twelve in length. There was a movable plunger on one end, port, resembling a large needle, on the other which docked with her suit. Her suit clicked, accepting the food, and Shepard watched as the bottom of the tube moved up. _I wonder how tired they get of eating paste… Do Quarians have any solid food?_

“So, John, how was your day?”

John laughed slightly, giving Tali the “Oh man, get ready for a story” look, picking up his knife and fork and beginning to cut into his “meat”.

“It was… interesting. Had some dealings with your Admirals, a settling a few disputes that arose because of a few assaults on the Geth. Alliance Command was a little grumpy, mainly that we haven’t left Rannoch yet, but it was under Hackett’s orders. Oh, and I got to hand out a promotion today, that was nice, got word of its approval while talking to Command. Yours?”

Tali laughed, levelling Shepard with a similar look, the food tube still in her mask. It took Shepard a little while to get used to the fact that she could talk clearly when the food was still docked, his brain associating the sight with a person with food in their mouth and thus expecting the muffled speech of a person with food in their mouth.

“Well, I got to help the rest of The Admirals deal with some of those same issues, but more from the back, mainly figuring out punishments. For how much I dislike doing so, it’s necessary to make it clear that such behavior will not be tolerated. We coordinated a bit with the Geth about colonization efforts, they’ve been a huge help, mainly in labor and resources. I did get to visit Reegar and his Marines for a bit, though, helping them coordinate some supply movements and crowd control. Everybody’s so eager to get down on the planet, some of the transport ships would be mobbed if it weren’t for their presence.”

“Ah, how’s Reegar doing, I haven’t talked to him in ages.”

“He’s doing pretty well, excited in his own, ‘I’m eager to see what it’s like, ma’am’ way about the homeworld.” John laughed at Tali’s fairly accurate portrayal of Kal’Reegar, even getting his head movements and ram-rod straight posture. “But we had a nice talk about what this will mean for him and his Marines. Apparently almost all of them volunteered to fight, not stay on the homeworld.”

Shepard cocked his head mid-chew, both surprised and excited to hear the news. He spoke around his food, causing Tali to giggle a little bit, struggling to understand him.

“Really? Good, we could use soldiers like him. Do you know where they’re deploying?”

“Not really, no. I can get you that info as soon as possible, but not off the top of my head.”

“That’d be great, wait ‘till Hackett gets a load of that. Quarian Soldiers on the front lines, they’re going to have to add sections to some of their handbooks.”

Tali cocked her head, slightly surprised. She removed the spent food tube, picking the other one up only to quickly drop it, prompting an eyebrow raise from Shepard.

“Still hot. Anyways, nothing on Quarian Marines?”

“Not really, no. In basic you get taught the absolute basics of operating with Turians, mainly because they’re the biggest military to operate with humans. ICT introduces Asari, Salarians, Batarians, and a few other races that the high level operatives it produces are likely to encounter. I’m sure that’s all changed since the war, but I’ve never really seen any material on Migrant Fleet Marines.”

“Understandable, they’re not exactly common.”

“Yeah…”

As the conversation drew to a close, silence permeated the cabin. Shepard proceeded to take a few bites of his meat, marveling at the fact that it still tasted like a perfect combination of gravy, beef, and pork despite its odd texture, Tali waving her hot food tube around to try and cool it down. They both tried to think of a new topic of conversation, but realized, almost simultaneously a rather unfortunate fact: they hadn’t really talked in the past week Tali had been aboard. They’d discussed business, yet, the presence of the galaxy’s premier peace-maker and a Quarian Admiral clearly necessitating conversations, but they hadn’t spent real time with each other. It had been Commander Shepard and Admiral Zorah, not John and Tali, a few moments notwithstanding (and those were moments neither of them were eager to re-live or openly discuss yet).

Tali looked up at John, watching as he nervously looked around the cabin, seeming to look anywhere but at her. Her hands started to wring themselves before she stopped them, looking at John and beginning to speak.

“John… um, I want to suggest something.”

John’s head snapped towards her, raising his left eyebrow in mild curiosity, stopping his chewing momentarily and setting his cutlery down. He spoke slightly dubiously, voice dropping half an octave and raising slowly as he drew his response out.

“Yes?”

Tali took a breath, slightly deeper than normal, placing her hands intentionally and quite deliberately on her thighs like she had seen John do many times to stop himself from fiddling. _Come on, Tali, you can do this, just suggest it to him. It’s John. You’ve both made it exceptionally clear that you want this, that you love each other, trust each other. Just build upon that. Go on, ask._

“I had a thought… about dinner.”

John’s face momentarily flashed with relief, clearly whatever he had been fearing she might say not being a comment about dinner. He smiled as he picked up his knife and fork again, resuming his meal.

“Alright.”

“You and I are so busy, normally, and with good reason. I was wondering if, and I realize this might be a bit of a silly suggestion, what with how much work we have. I mean, we’re both busy individuals and have a lot of responsibilities to our governments, even to each other’s…”

“Tali.”

“…don’t want to interrupt any work you want to do, because sometimes conference dinners are good. Quarians tend not to do them, but I know a lot of other races like to conduct business over their meals, so if its something you want to do then I’m fine with it…”

“Tali…”

“…really think it might be something that could help, especially given the fact that we haven’t really seen each other for the past week. I mean, we’ve spoken, but it’s always been about business, and while I don’t dislike what I do, I actually have grown to kind of enjoy it, and I think you like what you’re doing, I was thinking that it might be kind of…”

“Tali!”

Tali paused, stopping to look at John. She took another breath. _Come on, just spit it out. No rambling, no need to feel nervous._

“Sorry. I was thinking that it might be nice if we made it a habit to grab dinner together every day, at the very least…”

John’s answer was immediate, not even waiting for Tali to finish speaking as his face lit up with a smile at the idea.

“I think that’s a great…”

“Hold on, not quite finished.”

Tali held up a hand, pausing John right as he was about to say his next word. He closed his mouth, his face getting red as he gave Tali a sheepish look, hanging his head slightly like a child who had just been reprimanded.

“Go ahead.”

“Thank-you. I think it’d be nice if we got dinner every night, and set a rule that we don’t talk about business during dinner. No war, no Admirals and Commanders, just you and me and our friends, like we would if it weren’t for this stupid war.”

His face turned slightly concerned, confusing Tali for a bit. “But, I know you really enjoy what you do in engineering, it’s a major passion for you. If we set the ‘no business during dinner’ rule, you wouldn’t really be able to talk about that, would you?”

“Maybe not. But I know you need a break, you’ve been running around, uniting races and saving the galaxy for so long. Plus, I think it’d be good for us to talk about something other than business, just have a normal dinner together as a couple, as a team.”

“But Tali, I don’t want to make you give up something you enjoy just so I can get a break. I don’t want to make you do anything.”

“John, you’re not making me do anything. I’m the one that suggested it. I do enjoy talking about the engineering work, that kind of discussion is to our people what the weather seems to be to yours. But I’m more than willing to refrain to spend good time with you, to give you a break.”

“I don’t want you to have to refrain from anything. It’s a part of who you are…”

Tali cut him off. “A part, not the whole. John, really, I insist. I know you want to, and I’d like to try it as well. I want to be with you, want to be the break you need when we’re not on the line. Really.”

John smiled softly as Tali finished her statement, causing a slight flush to form behind her mask. His voice was equally warm, the smoother and more friendly voice he seemed to save only for her and a few other friends, a far cry from the larger-than-life command voice of Commander Shepard.

“In that case, Tali, I think that’d be a great idea.”

Tali laughed, taking another suck from her food tube.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Once again, silence permeated the cabin, but this time it was the silence of thinking, not so much awkward as just concentrated. Both John and Tali had bent their heads down slightly, working to think of topics that weren’t work. Both had a tendency to get slightly obsessive about their work, Tali’s boundless energy and John’s unmatched intensity causing neither of them to really tire in talking about what they did, focusing on it. Tali spoke first, laughing slightly as she did so.

“You know, I didn’t think coming up with topics besides work would be this hard.”

Another momentary expression of relief passed over John as he looked at Tali, chuckling at the new topic. _I suppose talking about how we have trouble not talking about work isn’t talking about work, right?_

“I’m not certain if I’m sad or a little proud.”

“Both, perhaps?”

“Both. Both is good. Have you caught up with some of the team members?” _Good, talk about our friends. They may all be great assets to our war, but at the end of the day, they’re our friends too._

“I’ve managed to catch up with most of them, having Kaiden on-board is an interesting change. Last I remember hearing of him was on Horizon. So he’s a Spectre now, huh?”

“Yeah, one of the only good things Udina did, in my opinion. It is nice to have him back though, isn’t it?”

Dedinitely, he and I used to have hilarious conversations on the original Nirmandy, always starting with a ‘what if’ conversation. From what I’ve heard and read, I just missed Wrex as well.”

Shepard chuckled deeply, swallowing his bite of food. “Yeah, still butting heads and calling everybody Pyjak. I think you would have liked a chance to talk to him.”

“You’re not going to tell me he’s mellowed out, are you?”

John laughed again, hearty and heartfelt, honestly amused. He had been skeptical at first, and the conversation still seemed forced, as though they were trying to remind themselves that there was still more to this galaxy than a threat to defeat The Reapers, but the difference he could feel, the lack of weight and the levity it was bringing him was undeniable.

“Mellowed out? No. Perhaps just a little more focused, a little bit more determined. I think seeing what Saren was going to do to his people changed him a little, gave him a little bit of hope for his species.”

Tali smiled, remembering how shocked she was to see their mercenary friend sitting on top of the throne of one of the most powerful clans on Tuchanka, the individual that had spouted about how doomed his race was now telling other clans that he will drag them to glory whether they like it or not.

“Keelah, do you remember just how brusque he was on the SR-1?”

“How could you forget? Every time I’d go to talk to him he’d just say ‘Shepard’ and then stare at me. Is it strange that he reminds me of Javik?”

“A Krogan bounty-hunter turned ruler reminds you of a 50,000 year old Prothean who claims to be the avatar of vengeance?”

John took a moment to think, looking down and to his left slightly, answering in a mildly smaller voice that was entirely awkward, acknowledging the ridiculousness of his connections.

“Yes…”

Tali giggled at the way John’s voice had changed, enjoying some of the moments when he was natural, human, awkward and cute and everything that nobody else got to see but was saved only for her.

“I think that’s entirely valid.” John snapped his head at her and scrunched his nose up, squinting and shaking his head at her the way children react when somebody else gets in trouble. Tali laughed and continued. “Javik is so… odd. Alien might be appropriate, but I think we’ve all already figured that out.”

“No kidding. He’s certainly not what Liara expected.”

“John, I don’t think he’s what anything would have expected. Granted, having met him I think everybody has put the Protheans on some sort of pedestal, simply because they were technologically advanced and aren’t here to prove any of our bad qualities, but who would have expected the last living Prothean to suggest we deal with every problem by sending it out the Airlock?”

“Yeah, I asked EDI to deny him access to the airlock unless I say otherwise.”

Tali laughed at that, unplugging her food tube as she finished and placing it down on the plate, leaning back and crossing her legs.

“You didn’t…”

“I most certainly did. Otherwise, who’s to say half of the crew won’t end up out the airlock? I mean, we’re just ‘Dirty Primitives’, who’s to say we’re worth saving.”

“Well he seems to like you.”

John stopped to think, swallowing the last bite of his meal before leaning back, likewise crossing his legs and resting his hands in his head.

“I think, at the end of the day, Javik is a soldier. There’s not much that can change about fighting something because you have to. He might not agree with the fact that I’m human, he may not even respect my species, but I think he respects a soldier of any era, of any species.”

“Perhaps. So what’s this I hear about Liara and Traynor?”

John cocked his head, his left eyebrow peaking. It was common for Alliance Captain’s to hear nothing of the recent scuttlebutt on-board their ships, rank acting as a barrier to stop them from hearing the rampant rumors and hear-say’s. But Shepard made a habit of learning everything he could about his crew, trying to stay up on the scuttlebutt, the rumors and such, he had found early in his career that they were an excellent way to gauge a crew’s state. For him to have not heard something concerned him.

“I haven’t heard anything. What _is_ this you hear about Liara and Traynor?”

“Oh, I’ve just heard a couple of crew-members saying they’d make a cute couple, something about white picket fences and little blue babies. Took me a while to learn what the fences thing was. A few even sound like they may try and set them up.”

“Trying to set the Shadow Broker up? Right, because that’s going to work so well.”

Tali laughed before her omnitool bleeped, instinct pushing her to check it. John smiled as he watched, enjoying the time they had just spent together. _This was good, I think I needed the time with her, and without the shop-talk too. Pity we can’t take more time, half the days I just want to grab her, keep her in here, and keep the rest of the galaxy out. That’d look great in the headlines. “Galaxy Falls because Commander Shepard hides in Cabin”. Then again, they might find a way. Maybe it’s time for a little shore leave, finally acknowledge that order Hackett sent. Next time we’re at the Citadel… yeah._

Tali spoke, pulling John from his thoughts. “Sorry, John, for how much I’d love to continue chatting, Adams needs me to submit an analysis on a few upgrades he’s been considering.”

“Oh? Do inform me.”

“I think it’s best if we let Dyphe tell you.”

“Tali, you’re an advisor, remember? Semi-outside the chain of command. It’s not insubordination to tell me.”

“Fine, bosh’tet. Well, we’ve been dealing with a few issues between the Engineering Terminals, the system doesn’t give read-outs to the Chief terminal, expecting all the crew-members to read them out. While that’d be fine in normal operating environments, makes it a bit tricky for him to give good orders during combat.”

Shepard cocked his head, about to ask what could cause such an oversight before Tali cut him off.

“It looks like it was caused by incomplete retrofits. Cerberus had a system sort of like what we want, but when The Alliance took over The Normandy, they refitted her with all new software and a completely new operating system, and it looks like this software patch never actually made it in. So, EDI and I have been working on getting one designed.”

Shepard nodded, his face speaking of approval.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Tali stood up, stretched, and started to walk towards the door, but as she was two meters away she heard a small voice from John’s seat. She turned around and saw him looking out of her from the top of his eyes, his posture timid, a pose that was unfamiliar on him, and his eyes darting back and forth with mild nervousness.

“Say again, John?”

He spoke louder, this time, but only slightly. Just barely audible enough for Tali to hear.

“Uhh, you could stay here, you know, work on the desk…”

She smiled inside, her eyes closing momentarily as she let the invitation wash over her. She and John had been sharing the cabin the past week, but beyond sleeping she had primarily found herself in Engineering or the War Room, in part because of the nature of her duties on board The Normandy, but also because she knew John preferred a quiet, isolated work space. For him to ask her to stay while they both worked, even if it was across the room, she knew meant a great deal. And from the adorable nervousness with which he seemed to ask it – _I swear, that man just turns into a soft ball of awkward love whenever we get to emotional things. –_ it sounded like he did too.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Again, the same slightly small voice.

“You wouldn’t be bothering me. I’d actually kind of, you know, like it if you were to sort of stay here. I like having you…. You know…”

John let his sentence trail off, but Tali just tilted her head, moving her hand in front of her in a motion inviting him to continue. He blushed furiously as he continued, clearly not quite comfortable saying something like this unabashedly in the open.

“I like having you near me.”

Tali chuckled, sauntering across the space towards him, setting her plate down on the table and pulling his forehead towards her, touching her filter light to it. He smiled and closed his eyes, wrapping her midriff in a bear-hug that made her squeak with its suddenness.

“Alright, John. But, if I do so, you have to promise to take another break when we leave Rannoch and go watch it with me in the obersvation lounge.”

“Deal.”

With that they both stood up and walked to their respective desks, each ultimately focused on the tasks in front of them and the work at hand, penultimately enjoying just having each other in the same room. They never stopped to think of how remarkable it was that even just the presence of the other calmed them, focused them, made them feel that something was right, but the effect was remarkable. John pausing after about five minutes to brew a new cup of coffee, much to Tali’s mocking.

“I swear, John, it’s as if you think you can drown the Reapers with coffee.”

“It’s a productive drink, helps me focus!”

“Uh huh. And the state of your coffee cup, does that help you run faster or something?”

“That, my dear, is naval tradition.”

“What, killing yourself by trying to grow a living organism at the bottom of your mug?”

“First Garrus, then you… can’t catch a break can I?”

“Don’t know what Garrus did, but so long as I’m around, no.”

John walked over and placed a kiss on the top of Tali’s visor, smiling at her while she remained seated, the steaming cup in his hand as he walked back to his desk. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.”

“Darling?”

“Yeah, it’s a human pet name. A term of endearment typically used between individuals in a romantic relationship. It’s a little outdated, but my dad used it whenever my mom was around.”

“Darling, huh? I think I could live with that.”

“You think?”

“Yes, but only from you, John.”

“Thanks, Tali. For dinner too. Just, thanks.”

“Love you too, John. Now come on, back to work, I want to finish this report before we pull out of orbit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was a little fluffy. And by a little fluffy, I mean a lot fluffy. And by a lot fluffy, I mean extremely fluffy. Please excuse me while I cram this chapter so full of fluff you could call it a mattress.  
> But I think it serves a good purpose. The beginning parts of this fic were centered around Tali and John's reunion, the pull between each other and their duties, struggling with the necessity that they be separated. Foundation Parts 1 and 2 were both intended to build a foundation of implicit trust and love between the two, the beginnings of taking incredible love and turning it into a functional relationship. This one was to demonstrate them starting to build on those foundations, starting to develop some habits and growing in their relationship. That'll probably be the theme for at least a couple more chapters.  
> Almost naturally, that necessitates this one being a little lighter, a little easier to write since I no longer need to tear my two babies apart. Hopefully that hasn't done anything for the quality, admittedly I'm not the best at small talk like this, not to mention writing it. Especially the whole "not talk about work" thing… not exactly a practice I've been able to stick to on my own dates. Oops. Not only that, hopefully the fluff isn't too intolerable, and seems to serve enough to develop the story a bit. For those of you who've read "Tag Teamed", you might recognize the establishment of the dinner. But, like I said, in terms of plot, it's supposed to show the further building of a relationship.  
> Either way, hope you enjoyed it, please let me know what you think. I'm thinking I'm going to start introducing a few more characters as the story continues, bring back some more Garrus-Shepard bromance, some Tali-Liara friendship, work some EDI and Joker in there, maybe even take a crack at Javik. We'll have to see, I'd kind of like to flesh out the cast that I'm working with.  
> So… that's about all I've got. Hope you enjoyed it, and again, leave a little comment to tell me what you think!  
> SotS


	8. Realities Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it returns from Rannoch, The Normandy hears a cry for help.

0300 Normandy Crew Deck

“Specialist, could you please come see me? I need your assistance.”

Liara stepped back from her terminal as she waited for a reply, hearing the slight rustling of sheets, staring intently at the data in front of her, information neither she nor glyph were able to decipher. The response came whispered, quietly spoken into the microphone so as not to wake the rest of her sleeping shift.

“Liara? Liara, it’s three in the morning. Isn’t there somebody on Alpha shift who can help you?”

“I am sorry to wake you, Traynor, but you’re the only one with your skills that I trust with certain… aspects of my job. If you wouldn’t mind, I have encountered a problem that I think is within your expertise.”

She heard Traynor sigh, some muttering as there was more rustling, clearly getting out of her rack.

“Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.”

True to her, word, a few moments later Liara found her door opening to a groggy-eyed yawning comms specialist, dressed in hastily put on Alliance-issued PT gear and still rubbing her eyes to try and get the sleep out of them. Her hair was frazzled, clearly yanked from what had likely been a very warm pillow, and there was a distinct glare in her eyes, one that could only be borne of sleepy rage.

“Liara, this better be important. If I’m getting racked out at three o’clock for some whining hanar…”

“I can assure you, Traynor, this appears to be. If you wouldn’t mind, take a look at this signal.”

Liara stepped back as Traynor centered herself at the console, focusing on the waveform that was displayed in front of her. She squinted and blinked deeply a few times, looking down and mildly shaking her head, before taking another look. After about thirty seconds of examining the image, she turned to face Liara.

“I’d almost say it looks like a standard Mining Colony Beacon, but there looks to be at least two other signals underneath. Liara, most equipment in the galaxy couldn’t discern a signal to this resolution. How did you get this?”

Liara stepped forwards, causing Traynor to sleepily stumble out of the way while tapping a few keys on her terminal, causing three individual wave forms to separate onto three screens, each one slightly different.

“Actually, my… specialty equipment, picked it up. This method of off-setting a signal slightly is how I tend to communicate with my contacts. The top signal is, indeed, a mining colony identifier, congruent with the types used by Human mining colonies of three different corporations for the past five years. The other two signals, however, are a little tricky.”

“And being a communications expert, you were hoping I would help out.”

“That was the thought, yes.”

The sleepiness began to leave Traynor’s mind and eyes as she thought on the problem, stepping forwards to the terminal and cracking her fingers in front of her dramatically. She turned and gave Liara a confident smile, now entirely awake and intrigued by the problem.

“Let’s see what we can do, then.”

Fifteen minutes later, Traynor called Liara over from the seat she had taken at her port-side terminal, the two standing, looking at two enhanced, much improved, signals. Traynor began to explain to Liara what they were looking at, highlighting aspects of the displays as she talked.

“This first signal, here, is actually a Salarian STG identifier. Rather than using IFF’s like most conventional ships and units, the covert nature of STG operations have prompted them to use a unique identifier signal. To most transmitters and communications specialists, it would sound like static. But after our run in with The Salarians on Surkesh, I was able to isolate the trinary code they’re using, which glyph identified as belonging to a team deployed approximately two weeks ago.”

She turned and raised a half-accusatory half-curious eyebrow at the Asari, who in turn responded with a look which said perfectly “Don’t ask”. Smiling slightly and shaking her head, Traynor tapped the display a few times to bring up the second waveform.

“This is the one that’s more interesting. True to their reputation, these Salarians are not eager for anybody to hear them. The signal itself is an omni-net add for Cipritine Armory from about three years ago. However, if you normalize the amplitude fluctuations they start to make a pattern which, if you convert to trinary again and apply Turian military ciphers from the same time period, turns out to be a text message.”

Liara raised an eyebrow at the explanation, impressed by the cryptography. _Perhaps after this war, she would make a good asset. Not as a field agent, but certainly as an analyst_.

“What does it say, Traynor?”

Traynor tapped a few times at the interface, causing a beeping to sound from the terminal as the screen printed out, in large block letters, the message:”

“SHOPPING COMPLETE, FOUND FLY SWATTER. LINE WAS LONG, BUSY STORE, STUCK IN TRAFFIC, PLEASE GET DINNER READY.”

Liara tilted her head, wracking her brain for any code she had seen resembling the statement. “Glyph, run this message against all Salarian communications we have collected to date, see if you can make anything of it.”

The glowing blue orb floated towards Traynor and Liara, situating itself directly in front of both of them, shortly underneath the screen. Traynor had her head bowed slightly, clearly trying to think of any possible meanings for the cryptic message.

“One moment, Doctor T’Soni… I have found correlating responses for everything except for the fragment regarding a fly swatter. Extrapolating based off of past mission success, this is a message from a Salarian STG team deployed to retrieve data. They were discovered during their mission and there is a Cerberus presence in the area. They were, or are currently being, pursued and are requesting evacuation.”

Liara’s head snapped directly to Traynor’s making eye contact as she realized which mission this might be, a flash of panic in her blue eyes as she spoke to the human who looked, while not entirely confused, slightly befuddled.

“Thank-you for your assistance, Specialist, this may end up being highly beneficial.”

Traynor’s befuddlement turned into confusion as she began to walk backwards towards the door, startled by Liara’s sudden reaction to the information and suspicious of it. _If there’s one thing I’ve learned on The Normandy, it’s that when the Shadow Broker starts looking like that, things can’t be good._

“I’m… glad I could help, Liara.”

As she stepped out back onto the crew-deck she yawned again, fatigue coming back to her as the excitement and challenge of the job wore off. Her mind continued racing, trying to figure out what the message had meant and what the “fly swatter” was, but as her head found its way back to her pillow, it soon decided sleep was a more pressing matter.   

0315 Normandy Deck 1

John turned over lazily as the alarm sounded in his bed, sending his feet out and slowly kicking Tali in the leg. She woke up with a groan, looking around the room for whatever it was that had woken her up, before being kicked mildly again. She chuckled and pushed him, with a certain degree of effort, across the bed, and was about to go to sleep, before the chime that had disturbed him in the first place sounded again, louder.

“John…”

John groaned again, turning over to wave his hand in her general direction, succeeding only in smacking the top of her helmet and dragging his fingers down her visor. _Bosh’tet could probably sleep through a Reaper attack if her weren’t too busy stopping it._

“John, wake up. Somebody’s at the door.”

Another groan as John sleepily grabbed the pillow and drive his head under it, his body still flat and his neck seeming to be at the most horrendous angle. The beep sounded, a third time. _I really didn’t want to have to do this…_

Tali leaned closer to John, speaking as quietly as possible, resorting to the one thing she knew would wake the man in an instant.

“Commander Shepard.”

The combination of his rank and name woke John up instantly, his eyes shooting open and his breath taking a sudden inhale. He sat suddenly as the threw the sheets off, his head already looking around as he tried to assess the situation. These were the practice nerves of fourteen years of military service, of an officer who had learned that he had to be ready at any moment, that the worst issues came at night and that he had to be able to deal with them with a simple phrase from any crewman.

Alertly his eyes locked on Tali.

“What is it?”

Tali smiled tiredly at his response, the soldier in him so ingrained and so well trained. Her voice, however, was still sleepy, and as she spoke she laid her head back down on the pillow.

“There’s somebody at the door.”

John gave a short “Thanks” as he leaned over to kiss the top of Tali’s helmet as she lay down, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking over towards his clothes. He quickly put on his Alliance PT sweatpants and N7 sweatshirt, sans tennis shoes, and walked over to the door. _Well, if they need me this badly, they get me in sweatpants._

As soon as he opened the door, he found Lieutenant Boyd standing, her typical bun replaced by what appeared to be a mess of hair quickly tied into a pony tail, her characteristically well-kept service uniform being replaced by a similar outfit to Shepard’s, Alliance PT Shirt and sweatpants, but with Tennis shoes. She held a datapad out to him as she spoke smartly, a hint of fatigue evident in her voice but, clearly, whatever the issue was being important enough to blast the majority of it away.

“Sir, I just received word from Doctor T’Soni and Specialist Traynor that they have intercepted a distress call from a Salarian STG unit researching an unkown subject. According to what T’Soni says, they are in hostile territory, and there are no Salarian ships in the area that can render aid.”

Shepard read over the report, seeing the original signal, the identifier, and the message, as well as his breakdown.

“And we’re certain the signal is authentic, Lieutenant?”

At this point, EDI chimed in, having monitored the entire process of this development.

“Yes, Shepard. I have compared the given identifier to the ones we observed at Surkesh as well as the ones you encountered on Virmire, while not the same, they are similar.”

“Thank-you, EDI. Lieutenant, what do you think?”

“Sir, we’re not certain why Salarians are operating in this area, but the departure it would require from our current course is minimal, and the Cerberus activity in the message was classified as “Heavy”, so I’m not even certain any other ship could make it – unless the Salarians are doing a great job of hiding a new stealth ship. I think we should go.”

“Alright. EDI, analysis?”

“Having looked over the information with Doctor T’Soni, Specialist Traynor, and Lieutenant Boyd, I concur.”

“And what about T’Soni and Traynor?”

EDI was the one to respond faster, Boyd closing her mouth almost sheepishly.

“Both are otherwise disposed, currently, but I both told me that they think we should go.”

Shepard turned his head back to the datapad, reviewing the information. _I can’t disagree, if they’ve got anything to help us then we could use it… I just hate how blind we’re going in._

“Alright. Boyd, tell the OOD to set a course. I also want you to set your people on finding as much about this and the area as possible, use Liara if you have to. I don’t want to go in any more blind then I have to. EDI, please inform all the Department Heads that we’ll be having a meeting in…” he stopped to glance at his chronometer “six hours, as well as disseminate any and all information to the department heads. Both of you, is that understood?”

“Yes, Shepard.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Alright, in that case, dismissed.”

With that, Shepard turned on the ball of his foot and walked back into his stateroom, shedding his clothes as he went until he fell back into bed, pulling the covers back over him. Tali turned over and grabbed him, resting her arms over top of his chest while she pulled herself out of sleep just enough to talk. Her voice was incredibly groggy and barely understandable, but John was still able to make sense of it.

“What was that all about?”

“Salarian STG team discovered by Cerberus and sending out a distress signal. Of course, we’re going to go rescue.”

“Hmm. Good.”

With that, Tali fell back asleep, and John was close behind her.

0915, Normandy Life Support

“Attention on Deck!”

Shepard walked into his Jury-Rigged wardroom to a chorus of scooting chairs, preceded by Garrus again. He took his customary path other to the coffee machine before sitting down, using the time to examine the officers in the room. There were a few that appeared almost bleary-eyed, this meeting in the middle of their sleep cycle, but all of them looked focused and determined, fully prepared to face whatever the galaxy had in store today. _They sure are one hell of a team._

“Please, have a seat.”

As they all sat, Shepard continued to talk, watching as his cup finished talking.

“We’re having this sudden meeting based off of a bit of intelligence Tactical received early tonight, so please turn your attention on Lieutenant Boyd, she will be doing the first part of the brief today.”

Boyd stood, her uniform now returned to its typical impeccability, and tapped on her omnitool, causing the other officer’s to beep with a request for screen display. After all in the room had accepted, looked at the information displayed and back to her, she began.

“Good Morning. At approximately zero-three hours this morning, Doctor T’Soni and Communications Service Chief Traynor discovered a Salarian STG distress signal, displayed on your omni-tools now. After analyzing the information, and confirming its authenticity, they came to the conclusion that there is a Salarian STG team in our vicinity who is in need of assistance. After further tracing the signal, we have found their location to be Chalkhos, in the Mil system of Sigurd’s Cradle.

“Further analysis of EM emissions coming from the area support their claim of a large Cerberus presence, at least a cruiser and three frigates around the planet. While we do not yet know exactly how they slipped past the Reaper presence in the area, we believe it is likely that they have taken some of the stealth technology from The Normandy’s design for their own ships, and that The Reapers are allowing them to be there, both of which are concerning facts.

“Monitoring Cerberus communications as closely as we can, it would appear that this fleet also includes at least a thousand troops, perhaps more, and that they are pursuing the STG team on the planet. It is our intention to mount a rescue and recovery operation.”

With that, Boyd resumed her seat, watching as the rest of her compatriots went over the information that was on their omni-tools. They had all seen it before, and many had even already prepared their departments for the various stresses and tasks this operation would require, but it was still good practice and good training for them all to review the information in the meeting as well.

Shepard spoke, walking to the table to take the seat that had been saved for him after watching the brief from the back.

“Thank-you, Lieutenant. Now, hopefully you’ve all been receiving and reviewing the information that has been sent to you regarding this. Lieutenant Baker, could you brief us on how the Normandy will be getting into the area?”

Baker stood up, again tapping on her omnitool and sending displays to all the other officers’ tools. While she still held her self with an air of mild arrogance, gone was the almost-angering swagger, even her accent seeming to lock down into efficient, focused productivity. As she spoke, various aspects of the displays viewed around the room lit up with highlighting red, a projected course appearing on the screen in green.

“Sir, our current course will take us closest to Selvos on our way into the system. As soon as we’re within 50 AU’s of Mil, we’re going to drop to near-light speeds and begin running silent, keeping as direct a course and speed as possible until we enter Chalkhos’ atmosphere. We will drop the shuttles in-atmosphere, where we will likewise attempt to discharge a portion of our hull static to allow for a faster escape. We will continue to orbit the planet and surrounding space, never leaving an orbit of more than 5 AU’s, providing over-watch for the ground teams, after which we will retrieve the shuttles and any other craft in-atmosphere and depart with all possible haste.”

Shepard watched the display for a little longer, observing the changes in the planets as her chart keyed into her unknown voice commands and moved the diagram along with her. _The discharge is a little risky, but so long as the shuttles are far enough out, we should be alright…_

“Looks alright, Lieutenant, please make sure Tranning, Vakarian, and Myself are kept updated of any changes. Alright, Mr. Vega, tell us what’s going to be happening down on the surface.”

Vega stood up, this time any awkwardness he felt from the mandated service uniform or the meeting environment gone. He was a soldier in his element, an Alliance Marine Corps Officer who was being asked to formulate an assault, this is what he trained to do, and it showed.

“Aye sir.” Again, the omnitools lit up, this time with a tactical display of the planet and all anticipated forces. “Our deployment is going to be fairly simple, comprising of two groups of two three-man teams. Each group is going to operate as an individual unit, using one of our Kodiak Shuttles. Once we have identified the locations of the STG team, or their broken up components, we will deploy each group to retrieve the targets. One of the teams will be set-up to provide over-watch and security while the second team works to render medical aid and secure the targets, guiding them to our vehicles. This process will be repeated until all targets are secured.”

“Very good, Lieutenant Vega. I can see a few issues with the team rosters you have selected, and I’d like to speak with you. Lieutenant Baker, how far out are we?”

“Twenty three hours, sir.”

“Alright. Twenty three hours, ladies and gentlemen. Between now and then I want every eventuality, every mistake, anything that could go wrong with this plan to be ironed out. Vakarian and I will make ourselves as available as possible, for all crew-levels, so please feel free to run things by us if you’re unsure. Goodness only knows what these Salarians have for us this time, but if what few Salarians I’ve met are anything to go off of, it’ll be good. So let’s make sure we get them home. Understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, sir!” rang through the space.

“Very well, dismissed.”

While the officers filed by him, Garrus stood by Shepard’s side, watching.

“You have any idea what they’ve got?”

Shepard laughed, shaking his head as a particular one-horned scientist came to mind, the memory bitter sweet but unique at the very least.

“No idea, Vakarian. For all I know, they’ve retired and finally decided to run tests on the seashells.”

Garrus tilted his head, clearly unsure what Shepard was talking about.

“Seashells, Shepard?”

“You weren’t there for that conversation, were you.”

“Clearly I missed something. Was this before or after Mordin tried to set me up with Bakara?”

“After, I think. Though in all honesty it was an ongoing process. Would have loved to see you go against wrex for her, though.”

The duo began to walk out of the space, turning towards the mess as Shepard made to grab more coffee and followed Garrus to his hide-out in the forwards battery.

“You know I could have taken him, Shepard. Too slow. And big.”

“Funny, I never heard you call him ‘Baby Pyjak’. Why’s that?”

Garrus laughed, unlocking the hatch and gesturing Shepard to go in first, both of them making their ways to his tactical terminal, Garrus cuing up a few war-simulations he had predicted and had running.

“There’s a difference between could and should have taken him.”

“Uh huh. Sure. Anyways, let’s take a look at those sims you’ve got. Is it true you’ve got the old west sound pack?”

“And if it is?”

“Then you’re a strange individual, Vakarian. Good, with my sense of humor, but certainly strange.”

2200 Normandy Deck 1

John walked into his stateroom carrying two plates of food, one steaming with the human rations, the other carrying the two food-tubes he had prepared for the stateroom’s other occupant, both combining into an aroma that could only be described as perplexing, the odd sweetness of Shepard’s Protein Ration # 52 (a personal treat, in lieu of the upcoming operation) and the smell strangely similar to gun oil coming from Tali’s foodtube causing his nose quite a bit of confusion.

As he walked in, he saw Tali immersed in her work at the terminal next to his bed, what looked like a specialized water container docked to the underside of her helmet. As he walked deeper into the cabin and set the two plates down on the table, she still didn’t look up. He stood at the table, trying to get her attention by waving before he remembered her lack of wide-angle peripheral vision.

“Tali, dinner.”

Still, she sat and typed.

“Tali, I’ve got food. Those tubes you requested?”

Again: no answer. John resorted to yelling, wondering if she didn’t have music playing.

“TALI, I’VE GOT FOOD. _”_

Nothing. _Oh, she’s got her auditory sensors off…_

Suddenly two large hands interrupted Tali’s view as she continued to read her terminal, laughing as she figured out just who’s they were. _Only one individual in this galaxy would neglect the shotgun and pull a prank like that. Well, we’ll pull his leg a little too…_

“John, you do realize that I’ve got x-ray vision in my suit, right? I can practically see right through your hands.”

John removed his hands and took a step back, resting his fists on his hips and cocking one.

“No you don’t, Tali.”

She proceeded to stare at him until his face softened, turning into mild concern and curiosity, speaking almost like a child.

“You really don’t, right?”

Tali smiled and laughed, standing up and sauntering over before giving John a kiss with her filter-light, smiling into his eyes as she let herself lithely and elegantly slip through his grasp, flirtatiously running as much of her body against his as possible.

“That’s for you to know, and me to find out. And I assure you, it will take a lot of persuading to get me to tell”

John smiled as he walked over to the table, unwrapping his meal as he looked at Tali, admiring her athletic form.

“For how much I would love to… persuade, you, we’ve got dinner and I’ve got a mission to prepare for, so eat now or forever clutch your stomach.”

Tali laughed as she unwrapped her own meal, finding it adorable that, even after a week of dinners together, he still put her tubes on a plate. _Sometimes I wonder if it’s just habit, food goes on plate type thing. But it might almost be cuter then…_

She spoke again, all flirtatiousness devoid from her voice as she clicked her first tube into place.

“Alright, deal. So how are you?”

“A little stressed, a little tired, but what’s new. I don’t think I’ve been this tired since my first mission after ICT… damned thing lasted 4 weeks of sniper-observation. What about you?”

“Nothing new, except that mission. What were you doing?”

“Oh, that? Well, trying to avoid sharing classified details, I was in a ‘hazardous environment’ conducting ‘friendly observation’ of an ‘interesting target’ for a few weeks, to ensure that the ‘suspsected activity’ wasn’t actually occurring. It wasn’t but that ‘hazardous environment’ had a bad habit of patrolling itselv exceptionally well, so my partner and I had to spend almost the entire time dodging patrols.”

“You’ve never told me about that.”

“Well you’ve never asked!”

“Good point, good point. Okay, ask one question about my past, any question, and I’ll tell you.”

John’s face turned into a mask of pure thinking, clearly weighing his options in what appeared to be the decision of the century. Tali giggled at the amount of thought he put into what she considered to be a harmless question, thoroughly amused by the sheer number of possibilities she could see racing behind his eyes. _Keelah, you’d think I’d have just asked him to solve advanced jump mechanics problems._

“Will there be more opportunities like this?”

Tali’s tone once again became slightly promiscuous. “Perhaps, with a little bit of… persuasion, yes.”

John chuckled to himself. “Alright, then: most embarrassing childhood memory.”

Tali could feel her cheeks get heated as a flood of embarrassing memories came back, all extremely vexing and things to laugh about now but that brought only shame and gratuitous blushes to her at the time. She combed through them all, trying to find the most embarrassing one, until one clearly stood out among the rest.

“Well, the first version of Chatika I ever built was not a combat drone at all, but rather a maintenance one. So one day, as I was walking back toward’s my family’s quarters on-board the Rayya, I activated her to test out a few software updates I had made, not realizing that one of them was a range extender. So when I activated her, she took off down the halls, screaming something about “malfunction detected” from my omnitool as I chased after her… I was 12, I didn’t quite have the common sense to deactivate her. She runs me up and down the Rayya, all over the ship, until eventually she zips her way into an Admiral’s meeting where she hovers around my father, still yelling “malfunction detected”. As soon as the drone gets in there I exclaim “It’s your fever, father!” and watch as he had to explain to the Admirals what was going on.  Turns out he had been running a slight fever from the time he and my mother had spent… without their suits, last night, and Chatika picked it up, viewing it as a hardware malfunction – her protocols at the time viewed crewmembers as organic hardware, easier to program for collision avoidance. Anyways, Raan just about lost it as she made him more and more embarrassed, and every time she came over for meals she would never let me nor father live the incident down.”

By this point, John was laughing as loud as she had heard him do so in the time she had been with The Normandy, starting to cry with mirth. Tali’s cheeks were blushing furiously and she stifled a few laughs before giving in, the couple sitting and laughing for three minutes as they both imagined (or remembered) a tiny and mortified Tali making her father explain very personal matters to some extremely vexing admirals.

“Alright, John, my turn, if you don’t mind.”

“Fire away, Tali.”

“That’s an extremely odd saying. Where in the galaxy did humans get it?”

“I’m not really certain, but you’re burning daylight before I get too nervous to play. Ask your question.” John replied nervously, his brain clearly combing through all the embarrassing and nerve-wracking and childish moments in his life, anticipating the very worst.

“Alright, biggest childhood fear.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, John, come-on!”

John giggled nervously, his face turning a brilliant shade of red which only increased Tali’s amusement. He mumbed an incoherent word, looking down at his knees, clearly trying to hide the answer as much as possible.

“What was that, darling, I couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh, now you’re just mocking me.”

“No, mocking would be getting up and saying ‘I should go.’ “

John looked up, confusedly, from the bite of food he had just taken.

“What was that you said?”

“Nothing. What was it, John?”

“Fine. Fish.”

“Fish?” Tali’s reply was incredulous as she felt another incredible fit of laughter build up inside of her. _He has a giant fishtank in his stateroom now, and he’s telling me he was terrified of fish when he was younger? Why am I having trouble believing this…_

“Fish. When I was young, probably no older than four or five, I managed to climb over one of the over-tank railings at the Chicago Aquarium, falling into one of the giant sea-simulator tanks they have. Of course, I started to panic, but the first think I came face to face with, was a fish. In retrospect, it couldn’t have been much larger than a few centimeters, but to panicking five year-old John, it might as well have been a Shark. After they got me out I ran out of the place and was irrationally scared of anything that looked like a fish for years afterwards. Almost failed me out of ICT water training, too.”

Tali laughed, now imagining a younger version in the middle of the ocean, screaming at his instructors for help as a school of small fish brushed his leg. _I wonder if Liara has video…_

“Failed you out of ICT? Do tell!”

John finished his last bite before glancing at the chronometer on his omnitool, wiping his mouth as he stood up, picking up both the plates. He stretched as he stood, distorting his voice slightly before his speech returned to normal.

“For how much I’d love to, we have an advisor-team meeting in fifteen minutes. Want to walk down with me?”

“Wouldn’t that be a little inappropriate for the captain?”

“First of all, Tali, everybody knows about us, it’s no secret. Second of all, they’re friends, not crewmembers. Garrus may be my XO, and I may appreciate the ‘sirs’ in front of my alliance crew, but we’re still friends there. Come on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourself, SotS is writing an original plotline. I wanted to explore writing in a mission that wasn’t given to me by the game, see what happened when I took The Normandy to new places with new environments, perhaps as a segue into some more original situations and missions in which we can explore some of the characters more. As such, the middle part got a little Normandy Fluff/Operations heavy, but I wanted to try and stay true to the way my Normandy operates: at the end of the day, she is a warship.   
> I added a little bit of John/Tali fluff at the end, both because I thought it’d be fun and… well… I thought it’d be fun. I’m hoping the whole no-business-dinner will be a great way to explore some of the cuter and more normal aspects of the couple, things like first fears and whatnot. Tried exploring that a little here, and I liked it, so anticipate having dinner with those two more often.   
> Not much more to say about this, except that it is the first part in a series of chapters that all serve the same purpose (I may even break them into their own story when I figure out how I want to organize the stuff I’ve written better), so this is not the end. And don’t worry, these differnet parts of the game will factor into the overall plotline, and be used to explain a few things that I found a little odd in the game.   
> Hope you all liked it, comments are (as always) very welcome, please tell me what you think, what I could work on, what you liked, what you’d like to see, etc.!  
> Enjoy!  
> SotS


	9. Realities Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Normandy approaches Chalkhos, the realities of The War make themselves known on The Normandy.

2230 Normandy Port Lounge

While Shepard appreciated, to a degree, the formality of having a ward room for his officers, he likewise appreciated the informality of meeting his fabled “Operative Team” or “Team Shepard” in the lounge Cerberus had installed on the new Normandy. While lacking in formal meeting tables and display screens, it made up for that with an aura of friendship that he greatly appreciated. Those individuals were his family, the one he chose, forged by necessity and strengthened by deep friendship, he would avoid meeting them as formal advisors and a captain as much as possible, even his interactions with Garrus being more informal than most CO/XO teams in the alliance.

As the door opened, he stepped in to the sounds of Garrus and Javik’s laughter, the two sitting in one of the aft couches as the Prothean finished one of his many… interesting tales. EDI and Liara sat opposite each other on the other pair of couches, Joker having joined them and sitting suspiciously close to EDI, though no physical contact was readily apparent. Kaiden and James were at the bar, clearly finishing mixing drinks, an opaque blue at the bottom which faded into a transparent green at the top, James’ ironically sporting a small pink Umbrella.

Kaiden was the first to greet Shepard as he swilled his glass around gently, slightly mixing the odd liquid inside.

“Shepard! Glad you made it! Can I get you anything?”

John let go of Tali’s hand as she went to go sit next to Liara, the two greeting each other with smiles and a slightly suspicious high-five. Shepard laughed as he walked over to the bar, putting the coffee cup he had kept in his left hand on the counter.

“So long as you’re offering, Alenko, I could go for a cup of coffee. Maybe with a little bit of that Thessian Star-milk I’ve heard you’ve got hidden back there.”

Kaiden smiled as he stepped behind the bar, quickly taking the Commander’s cup. While not entirely proficient at mixing drinks (as Vega or Cortez would point out at every opportunity), Kaiden nonetheless enjoyed just about everything taste-oriented, from cooking (which he was much better at, as Vega would reluctantly admit as the Major saved his Huevos Rancheros from a hot-sauce laden fate) to mixing drinks, thus often and eagerly stepped in as unofficial bartender when the team was around.

“Coming right up, Shepard.”

Joker spoke up next, relaxing and moving his hand around EDI’s back.

“What’s wrong, Commander? Not quite consumed three metric tons of caffeine?”

“You laugh, Joker, but I’ve seen your coffee consumption. You might even give me a run for my money.”

At this point, EDI chimed in, her voice slightly sheepish.

“Commander, it is unhealthy for either you or Jeff to consume as much caffeine as you do. While your implants may allow you to handle the chemical more aptly, Jeff sports no such augmentations. Such challenges are… inadvisable.”

Joker laughed, looking at EDI with a look that was mostly jocular, but had just enough suspicion and concern behind it to hint at the appalment the thought actually gave him.

“What, EDI, next you’re going to tell me that you’ve been changing my brew out for decaf or something.”

EDI remained stoically silent.

Joker’s face turned to one of hardly-feigned horror as he sat forwards, facing EDI more directly.

“No… you haven’t been…”

“We’ll discuss it later, Jeff.”

At this point, Garrus stood up in the back, leaning against the glass wall that cordoned off the Poker table from the rest of the room.

“Shepard, for how much I love listening about Jeff’s hyper-active caffeinated state, last time I checked we were actually here for a purpose. So, what’s it this time? Wait, let me guess… A Reaper is decimating some war asset somewhere, and they’re helpless, and we’re the only ship in the area, and we just have to go rescue them. Is that about right?”

Shepard chuckled, appreciating Garrus’ humor, even though he knew the Turian already knew exactly what they were walking into.

“That’s about right Garrus, but this time it’s Cerberus. If our specialist gets here anytime soon, we can begin the brief…”

“She’s on her way, Shepard. She had to take a call from her mother.”

All heads in the room snapped to Liara, and Shepard could almost swear she turned a deeper shade of blue under the scrutiny, right before her face resumed its implacable mask and she defensively responded. “I’m an information broker. It is my business to know everybody’s business.”

Shepard and Tali shared a knowing look over Liara’s shoulder as the door opened and a panting Traynor came sprinting in.

“Sorry… Call from…”

“Your mother, yes. Now, what information do you have?”

Javik’s voice resounded with not so much malice as just focus throughout the room as he cut Traynor off. She gave the Prothean a look of tired confusion, before slight realization dawned in her eyes and her gaze swiveled to Liara, who incredibly slightly shrugged her shoulders, earning a slight scowl from the human woman.

“Yes, the information. Well, okay. Yes. So.”

Traynor pulled up her omni-tool causing the rest of the teams’ tools to light up, all of them agreeing to the slaving-request almost simultaneously. As Traynor continued, Shepard made his way around James and Kaiden to the back corner of the room, trying to be as non-intrusive as possible, knowing his presence could be enough to set the Specialist off of her game while speaking. _For an intel and communications-specialist, she is awfully nervous while speaking…_

Traynor continued.

“At approximately zero-three this morning, Ms. T’Soni and I interpreted an anomalous signal to discover a Salarian STG distress signal, being displayed currently. We confirmed its authenticity and, after tracing it, pin-pointed the location to Chalkhos, in the Mil system of Sigurd’s Cradle. After looking into the signal slightly further, and employing an advanced EM-spectrum signal-filter, we identified that there is a large Cerberus presence, of at least four ships, and likely at least a thousand troops. Furthermore, information received today indicates that the team was doing work on some form of anti-reaper weapon. Nothing on the scale of The Crucible, of course, but ideally something to assist our ground forces. Clearly, Cerberus doesn’t want this weapon to be found and utilized.”

The ground team fixed their attention on Traynor as she spoke, nodding as she reached critical parts and looking down at their omnitools in occasional curiosity. After she was done, Traynor looked at Shepard, curiously and apprehensively, as he gave her an encouraging nod, mouthing “good job” at her, earning a weak smile as she went to take a seat, perching on the arm-rest next to Liara. Shepard spoke from behind, causing everybody to shift to look at him.

“Thank-you, Traynor. Alright, James has a plan of attack set up with his Marines, but given the fact that elements of the team are likely pretty separated, geographically, I’d like to use almost all of you on this one. James.”

“Yeah, thanks Loco. So, I’ve got my boys separated into two groups of two three-man teams, each goroup operating independently out of a different shuttle. I’ll be leading one of the groups, Major I’d like you to lead the other. Loco, you said you wanted Scars and Javelin?” Shepard nodded and Javik tilted his head, clearly both confused and displeased with the moniker. “Damn we need a better nickname for you, man. Anyways, you three will be doing your own do, I’m not even going to try and mess with that.”

Tali spoke up, clearly having finished counting up the crewmembers and finding a few names missing.

“What about EDI, Liara, and I?”

This time, Shepard spoke up, causing James to close his mouth and pump his thumb over his left shoulder, followed closely by a mouthful of whatever drink he had in his hand still.

“You three, I want on the Normandy. EDI will be best able to handle any cyberwarfare when not worrying about her mobile platform, Liara is invaluable with communications and her equipment is… unique, and Dyphe said he wants you with him for some of the possible engineering issues, Tali.”

Tali looked at Shepard, and shot him a look that, while not hostile or even insubordinate, unmistakably said “We’ll talk about this later.”, replying verbally only “Okay.”

After shaking off the slightly  uneasy feeling Tali’s look had given him in the pit of his stomach, Shepard pulled himself off of the bulkhead he was leaning on, finishing his coffee with one last gulp.

“Alright, anybody have any questions?”

The room was silent, all the team shaking their heads.

“Alright, Joker, you said we’re about ten hours out at this point?”

“That’s right, boss.”

“Alright. Approximately ten hours till drop. I’ll send out a warning an hour out. I want everybody to get at least three hours of sleep between now and then, we’re not going into this tired.”

Garrus spoke up, laughing slightly at the unconventional order. _In all my years, I have never seen a Commanding Officer order his crew to get mandatory sleep before a drop._

“What, Shepard, you don’t want us falling asleep on Cerberus?”

“I think that’d be slightly less than beneficial.”b

“Maybe. It’d certainly give me a chance at all the head-shots.”

“Like you could hit them…”

“Bold words, Commander.”

2250 Normandy Deck 1

“Okay, John, explain to me why, exactly, I’m not on your ground team for Chalkhos?”

Tali stood almost accusingly next to John’s desk as the man sat down, rotating his chair to open his terminal. The two had been silent after leaving the operative team meeting, Tali too busy mulling over why she wasn’t on the ground team to really speak, John too busy mulling over why Tali wasn’t speaking to speak. When they entered the stateroom, however, John had gone straight for his desk, and Tali had felt comfortable enough in their seclusion to ask.

“You’re needed on The Normandy. Dyphe said it himself. The plan we have has us discharging in atmosphere, which could be a tricky maneuver, so he wanted you.”

“Dyphe can handle a discharge, it’s routine procedure.”

“In atmosphere?”

“Yes!”

“With two ground-team shuttles launching concurrently?”

Tali’s stance changed as she considered the issue, such a maneuver far from common. She spoke slowly, the slightly squinted eyes and upturned helmet indicating a clear level of thought.

“Well… He’d have to be careful to monitor the field lines and control the emission vectors. And if he wasn’t careful, his flux could fry every system in the shuttle. So I’d probably have to write a program to help him do that. And…” Tali stopped, looking at Shepard who had gotten a rather knowing look, giving her a crooked smile while raising his left eyebrow.

“You’re proving a point, aren’t you…”

“That implies it hasn’t already been proven.”

Tali raised her hands in consternation, knowing she had been cornered.

“Fine, I’ll stay. But stay safe, John, okay?”

John laughed dryly,  a small but almost bitter smile gracing his lips.

“I’ll do what I can, you keep our girl flying, alright?”

“Deal. But that was a dirty trick, you know how I get talking about tech.”

With that, John turned off his terminal, the entire thing more of a way to keep the focus of the room from being entirely on his decision, and walked down to his bed, beginning to get undressed.

“I prefer to think of it more as creative victory, than dirty trick.”

“Isn’t that just another way of saying ‘cheating’?”

“No…”

Tali walked down the few steps and began to wipe herself down as had become customary during their nightly ritual, folding her cloth gingerly and placing it on the bed so that John could reach over and place it in the drawer he had reserved for all of her clothes, few though there were. After she was done, Tali lifted the covers and began to slide under them, her voice becoming playful.

“Admit it, John, you cheated.”

John followed suit, snuggling himself up under the covers, pulling the comforter up almost over his head.

“Tali, I am an Alliance Marine. I would never cheat.”

“Cheater”

“Never”

As the two got comfortable, Tali rolled over to turn off the light and felt John grab on to her, finishing setting an alarm on his omnitool. She sounded tired when she spoke, but his response gave her the impression that we was already mostly asleep.

“It’s okay, I can live with Creative winning.”

“ ‘s thu rught wy.”

His response was quickly followed by snoring.

2500 Liara’s Cabin, Normandy Crew Deck

“Traynor, have you tried narrowing the transmission band?”

“I’ve gotten as far as our receivers will go.”

“Try mine, they’re lower powered but the narrow search might help our VI’s.”

“Hold on… Nothing yet, Liara. Let me try to alter our search paramaters.”

“I think I’ve found something…”

“No, that’s just a solar flare, old one too.”

Liara and Traynor were both standing at the Shadow Broker’s terminal, watching as the multitude of screens constantly changed and altered, different waveforms and algorithms flashing across different screens. Traynor was still not entirely used to the deluge f information the terminal was programmed to deliver, little regard for the speed of the reader, but was getting increasingly adept at interpreting the information, and what she lacked in reading ability she made up for in technological skills. Liara was having almost the exact opposite problem, while easily able to interpret the information, a practiced eye, she was more than slightly out of her depth, and felt more than a little lost watching the Specialist operate.

“Traynor, if I’m bothering you or hindering your progress, please let me know.”

Traynor responded without looking, waving her left hand dismissively at the comment, eyes still intently focused on the reception statistics in front of her.

“No, Liara, for the hundredth time: you’re fine. I’m not quite used to the speed of your terminals, but you’re catching some things I’m missing.”

Liara watched as Traynor fiddled, without looking, with her interface. _She is clearly more adept at learning new systems than she gives herself credit, it took me a few days before I could operate this interface that easily…_ She pushed herself away from the terminal, crossing her arms as she considered what they were doing, her mind searching for any alternative to their repeatedly, and currently, unsuccessful attempts.  

“Is there any other way we might be able to establish contact without alerting Cerberus?”

Traynor paused her work, freezing the screens as she stepped back, rubbing her face while thinking.

“Not conventionally, at the very least. We definitely don’t have a QEC channel to them, and that’d be ideal. Narrow-band transmission is the most conventional method of hiding a signal, but we don’t know that they have a receiver nor that it is programmed to receive any of the signals we can send…”

Silence permeated the Cabin for the next two minutes as the two women stared thoughtfully at the ground, both too deep in thought to hear the mild pinging coming from Traynor’s omnitool.

Suddenly, Traynor raises her head, the sudden movement and volume startling Liara.

“WAIT!!! If we send out our signal the same way they sent theirs, we stand a good chance they’ll receive it. Remember how theirs was presented as a faulty Mining Colony Beacon?”

Traynor had brought up her omnitool during her excitement, fingers dancing over the interface.

“Well, what if we list ours as a mining transport! That would be the logical next step, right? And encode the message in trinary like they use…”

Traynor stopped, her face falling quickly. Her eyes scanned back and forth over the screen and she gasped softly, slowly for breath, her eyes watering. She closed her omnitool, her arm falling almost limp to her side as she looked at Liara, pain clear in here eyes.

“I… have to go… something… somebody…”

Her words were pushed out between barely concealed sobs, wiping her eyes hastily with the her now let-down sleeves, the tears staining the fabric a deeper blue.

As she turned to leave, Liara quickly brought up her omnitool, seeing what Traynor had just opened, began reading, her own heart stopping. _Goddess, I don’t know who they are… but they must be friends, family almost._

“Traynor… Samantha…”

Samantha stopped, turning around, openly weeping now but hanging her head, trying to hide it from the Asari. _Alliance Soldiers don’t cry. Don’t let her see you cry, you don’t do that any more, Sam. You’re fighting a war, no time for crying, certainly not in front of somebody like her… Legends don’t cry, and Alliance Soldiers certainly don’t cry in front of them._ Again, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, sniffling as she did so. Her shoulders slouched, her chest heaved gently as she tried to prevent the ragged breaths that wanted to desperately to break out, the grief almost tearing her chest apart. She licked her lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to prevent the stream of tears that were borne of pure grief, unaldutered reality of a brutal war.

Liara took the few steps between them, putting out her left hand and gingerly touching Samantha’s shoulder, her right hand rubbing the side of her other arm.

“Samantha, I’m… sorry.”

“How… how can you be. You… you never… you don’t know them.”

Samantha’s breath hitched as she reached the past tense in her sentence, her body still numb with the news, her brain still refusing to accept theirs as faces she would never see, as voices she would never hear. She looked up at Liara, hurt and pain and grief and everything the war had brought pent up in pure passion gleaming behind her tears, her face a losing battlefield with emotions which she had fought to overcome, to be the soldier that bested them, that she needed to be.

“It’s this… this damned war. When will it stop, Liara… Goddammit, when will it stop?”

Liara watched as Samantha’s mask broke into a fire of grief, burning through the stoic façade and pulled her into a tight hug, rubbing her back as Samantha finally broke down, sobs heaving her frame against Liara’s. Samantha mumbled, yelled, cried incomprehensible phrases which Liara couldn’t hope to understand, to which she just proceeded to rub Samantha’s back, being the friend the human needed. She gently guided Samantha down until they were both on their knees in front of the door, no need to move when a hole in a personal world had been made so large that there could be no steps around it.

Liara began to rock Samantha back and forth, still rubbing her back and making soft sounds into her ear, attempting to soothe the woman as loss and grief, mourning ran its course, running through her with a quick passion that burnt out all in its path, leaving but the embers of a broken heart and lost friendship, only to burn with the low passion of loss and regrets and days that never happened and moments never shared and hellos never had and goodbyes never said.

Samantha slowly pulled back, wiping her cheeks and sniffling as her red eyes found Liara’s, the pain reduced, subsided in the moment.

“I’m sorry, Liara. I should have been…”

Liara cut her off, softly, her voice as soothing as she could make it. Just like with Tali, Liara felt lost in helping the woman that had become one of her closest friends, sitting as she watched the galaxy’s injustice and cruelty shake another life in the face of this massive war, another microcosm to be lost into the statistics of future textbooks, but which held such passion and fire and importance as galaxies stand on.

“You should have been nothing different. What… what happened, Samantha?”

Samantha’s name still felt strange on Liara’s lips, the familiarity something she typically avoided except with her closest friends, but it felt right in the sentence, the right words for an injured heart.

“I just… I got news that Cerberus…” Samantha struggled to contain her breathing, calm it down to the point that she could speak, her voice still hitching over the news she struggled to accept. “Cerberus attacked and… captured the outpost the… the people I worked with The Normandy were on.” Another steadying breath, another sleeve wipe. Liara reached out and found Traynor’s hand with her own, hoping the physical contact would give her ailing friend the strength she needed, though she couldn’t say whether it was her need or Samantha’s. “Two of them were… were my… sisters.”

With that Samantha broke down again, the reality of the calamity setting in as she said it, Liara leaning in again to capture her in a deep hug, tighter than the one previously. This time, she could understand what was said by Samantha, could hear the pain in her voice, and could not help the empathetic tears that welled in her eyes.

“They took them, Liara. All of them. Erin and Mia, Michael, Amy, all of them. Just… taken. To Cerberus of all people. They’re going to be those dreadful phantoms, or Nemesis. It’d almost be better if they were dead… a body to bury. But now they’re… goddammit.”

Liara continued to rock Samantha back and forth, holding her as the facts resurfaced in slow sobs, gasped breaths and quiet whines, complaints to a stolid galaxy of its cruelty, grand loss on a personal scale.

_We have to win this. For her. For everybody. This is what’s playing out on a galactic scale… how many other families… how many other friends… How long before we’re forced to see the numbers like this, the statistics brought to microcosmic life?_

Eventaully Liara heard Samantha stop, her breathing gaining some semblance of normality, her eyes still closed tightly and her mouth pinched, but the incredible grief waning. Before opening her eyes, Samantha spoke, softly.

“Th… thank-you, Liara.”

“Of course, Traynor. If you need me, I will always be here.”

“Please… Samantha.”

Liara smiled, thinly, the friendship which she had found clearly becoming more solidified with the use of first names. Traynor was slightly informal by nature, first names came easily to her and it was something taken for granted between her and colleagues. But for Liara, the step from surname to first name was a large and defining mark in friendship.

“Alright, Samantha. You’re very welcome.”

“I probably would have just gone and cried in the sub-engineering level for a little while and then tried to convince everybody I was fine. Alliance soldiers don’t cry, you know.”

“I happen to know that they all do. Just, never in front of the cameras.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“This war is… monstrous. It has hurt so many so much… Sometimes I wonder how we’ll make it through… I’m sorry it had to find you.”

“We’ll make it through, Liara. It may be slightly impossible, but that seems to almost be synonymous with Normandy these days.”

“I think you mean Shepard.”

“No, I know what I said.”

Samantha’s eyes opened, and when Liara met them she was almost shocked by the stark contrast between what she saw previously and what they had changed to. Pain and grief and anguish and loss had been replaced by steely determination, bitterness against the galaxy transformed into hard resolve.

“Alright. I’m going to go clean up, but when I come back, we’re going to get into contact with that Salarian STG team. And then Shepard and his Marines are going to go save them. And they’re going to kick Cerberus right back to the River Styx. And then we’re going to save the galaxy.”

Liara was slightly taken aback, this level of determination having never previously emanated from the woman, hers always the more slight demeanor, quiet and understated determination and strength. She had never heard such confidence, such absolute resolve and steel in her voice. The change left her almost speechless as she stood with Traynor, watching as she walked straightly out, re-rolling her sleeves in what appeared to be an act of absolute resolve, a small statement to the galaxy that all would not be well, that she had decided to fight and was coming directly for them.

Liara’s smile got stronger.

2600 Normandy Flight Deck

“Estimated Time to Arrival, Approximately four hours, Jeff.”

“Thanks EDI, how’s our field intensity holding?”

“Field intensity is nominal, and has been for the past twenty six times you’ve asked.”

“And our drive servos?”

“Repeating myself seems unnecessary.”

“What about shielding? Barriers alright?”

“Jeff, everything is fine. My systems are all running normally.”

“Yeah, alright, I just get nervous sometimes, you know, with a mission and all.”

EDI turned to look at Jeff, her face a passable imitation of confusion which Joker would have laughed at, had his eyes not been so locked onto the flight terminal in front of him.

“You seem stressed, Jeff. Moreso than usual.”

“No, I’m fine. Just fine. Doing alright here. You know, just a few pre-mission jitters, that’s all. Discharges during missions always get me jittery.”

“We have never attempted to discharge in a mission.”

“Precisely.”

“I meant, Jeff, that you seem nervous outside of normal levels. Is it the possible news about tiptree?”

Joker cringed slightly as he heard EDI mention it, fighting the boiling, seething pit of anger he could feel bubbling in the bottom of his stomach. _Don’t you dare let that out, Joker. That’s not for her, that’s to blast those hell-cuttlefish back to whatever… well, hell they came from. Damn I need to work on my analogies._

Despite his best efforts, Joker’s voice still came out aggressively, harshly, almost accusatorily.

“Thanks for putting it out there, EDI. Yes, it is about my family. Yes, I am worried for them. No, I do not want to talk about it. Yes, I am sure.”

Joker’s anger had flared more than he had anticipated during the outburst, causing him to be slightly panting by the end, cheeks burning red with stress-induced anger.

“I am sorry, Jeff. I did not mean to offend you, or cause you alarm. I only want to find out what is wrong so that I can help.”

“Yeah, well… go beat the Reapers, that’d be a start.”

EDI frowned slightly, as much as she had mastered, since usually an apology from her disarmed Jeff quickly. _Evidence has shown that humor might be inappropriate at a time like this._

“Jeff, I am sure your family will be… alright. If they are anything like you, they are resourceful and intelligent enough to keep themselves alive, and it is likely that evacuation transports will be available to transport them off-world soon.”

Joker’s face softened from his surly previous expression, hope now slightly apparent in his eyes as he looked at EDI.

“You think so?”

_Statistically, it is an ambiguous outcome. But hope is still a thought._

“Yes, Jeff, I do.”

Slowly, EDI stood and made her way over to Joker’s chair, using her control to swifel it to face her as she got down on her knees to be at eye level with the man, who seemed to be making attempts to avoid her eyes. With surprising tenderness for an AI-controlled platform, she reached out and lifted Joker’s eyes to look at hers with her right hand under his chin, a motion she had seen from Shepard and Tali but had yet to try. Joker was surprised at the action, so unlike the majority of EDI’s fairly tactless interactions.

“Jeff,  you cannot give up hope. I cannot say that I yet fully understand the concept so far as to fully integrate it myself, but I understand its necessity in a conflict like this and importance to your mental health enough to say that you need it. Even if you do not know that they will be fine, have hope. It is a… potent, emotion.”

Joker teared up, slightly, though were anybody to comment he would say he just had something in his eye. EDI registered the change and smiled softly, an adaptive reaction, as Joker took one breath deeply in through hhis nose and exhaled it slowly through his mouth, a technique he had learned from Shepard. He bowed his head and chuckled slightly.

“That’s touching, EDI. In a very…you know, you kind of way.”

He looked up, smiling wryly at her as she continued to look into his eyes, her face smiling slightly but still clearly intent on making sure he was okay.

“I promise I won’t give up hope. What did they say in school, a hopeless pilot was a dead one. And what would The Normandy be without her best pilot?”

“It would not be the same, Jeff.”

Jeff laughed softly again as EDI returned to her co-pilot’s seat and Joker tuned back to face his console. He spoke with half sarcasm half realism that only he could achieve. EDI responded with the utmost of sincerity.

“So you do care.”

“Always.”

2730 Normandy Deck 1

The alarm went off in the almost quiet stateroom, followed closely by the groggy wrestling of sheets by a still-asleep commander. John rolled over in his bed, attempting to extricate his arms and legs from the nexus that had become his bedding, desperately searching to turn off the alarm. Within seconds of his hand finding the interface, his feet had hit the deck, and he was standing, practiced routine telling him that, to leave himself horizontal any longer could result in an unfortunate morning.

As he walked towards the shower, he saw Tali sitting on the couch, her head upturned, admiring the stars. He sat down next to her, rubbing his face with his hands, his voice still unusually deep from the rest.

“Hey.”

Tali’s reply was quiet, pensive, clearly not quite out of the last portion of her sleep cycle.

“Hey.”

“Was it bad today?”

“Not terribly, no. Certainly not as… depressing, as it’s been.”

“But I’m guessing not good?”

“No, not terribly good either.”

John moved his right arm to her left and they intertwined with practice ease that John was sure would never stop making him happy.   
“Want to talk about it?”

“I was just thinking about how much farther we have, how much longer we go.”

“Until we win?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s getting shorter every day.”

“I know, that’s almost what scares me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m scared…” Tali’s voice began to break, this topic still emotionally charged enough that her characteristic blunt optimism could not break through.

“I’m scared that we’re not going to make it through. And Keelah, I know that’s selfish. So many families have lost so much, but not ours. I guess… I just don’t ever want to lose you. Lose any of us.”

“Hey, come here. Listen.” John moved his arm around Tali’s shoulder, her hand staying clasped in his so that he was pulling her into his shoulder while she had her arm crossed around her chest, holding onto his.

“I can’t promise you that we’re all going to make it out of this. That would be unrealistic. We’re fighting a war, we all know what that means. But I can promise you this: I, and everyone else, will do everything we can to ensure we survive. There is not a precaution, not an action we will not take that will improve our chances of survival. We will do everything we can to make it through this. And if we don’t, we’ll have the best memories to look back upon, and the best group of friends, the best misfit family, to smile at in the pictures and stories and memories, okay?”

“Those are going to be some great stories.”

“The best. And every single one of us that can, will be there to tell them. Okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Good.” John turned his head and kissed the top of Tali’s helmet, causing her to smile sadly underneath it as the melancholy of her morning began to wear off. _We’ll make it through this, all of us that can. John’s right, We’re a family. We will keep each other safe until there’s no other way to do so, and when there isn’t we’ll keep those that couldn’t make it in the victories and rebuildings of the future._

John stood up,   rubbing his face as he turned to face Tali.

“Now, we’ve got a Salarian STG team that isn’t going to rescue itself. You ready?”

Tali’s voice became more energetic, more optimistic, more the Tali that everybody else saw and that could save the galaxy with a circuit board, a piece of string, and some Eezo.

“Do I have my shotgun?”

“Good. First, a shower. Then, kicking Cerberus Ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get this out, this last weekish has been absolutely brutal. But, here it is, Realities Part 2. I’m not entirely certain how long this portion of the story is going to go on, hell I’m not even certain how long I’m going to keep this story going (probably going to have to rename it at a certain point, we’ve sort of moved past a reunion), but here’s the second installment.   
> This one’s a little bit darker, a little sadder; maybe not so much as the first few chapters, but definitely a bit heavier. Like the name implies, this entire part deals with (or attempts to deal with) the realities of The War that are sometimes glazed over in the games: Personal loss, military operations, the constant threat of death, etc. So I thought I’d try to give it a bit more coverage.   
> I’ve also started to work in some new characters, delving more into Liara, Traynor, EDI, and Joker here, even a dash of Javik. Please let me know what you think of that, I’d love to hear your feedback on those character dialogues (I tried to stay as true to the characters as possible, hopefully I didn’t miss that mark).   
> As always, hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think!  
> SotS


	10. Realities Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the team descends and returns from Chalkhos, Shepard and The Normandy face some grim reminders of the Realities of their war. With perhaps a happier one at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would highly recommend listening to "Eternal Father Strong to Save" as you read the middle part of the chapter, adds to the atmosphere, in my opinion.

0305 Normandy Shuttle Bay

“Hey, Loco, isn’t that a little heavier than what you normally pack?”

“What’s wrong, Vega, you scared mine’s bigger?”

“I’m just wondering what’s with the mobile turret and the hand-held artillery piece is all.”

Shepard looked over his back as he stood near the shuttle,  glancing over the geth pulse rifle and black widow rifle he had strapped to his back, a slight smile coming over his face.

“Cerberus is one of those blunt force kind of enemies, Vega. So, I packed some blunt force.”

“I’ll say.”

While normally preferring to pack the N7 line of weapons – the  Valkyrie giving him a great deal of precision for an assault rifle and the Valiant’s speed and lack of recoil a great benefit – as far as he could tell this wasn’t exactly going to be a mission which called for the finesse these weapons allowed, instead more likely requiring the incredible fire rate and stopping power of his current kit. _Plus, sometimes I just really like playing with big guns…_

He climbed onto the shuttle after Javik and Garrus both climbed on, the door sliding shut smoothly behind him and the shuttle going through a slight jolt as it undocked from its harness within the ship. He turned to face the marines inside, the shuttle a little more cramped with nine combatants in it, but nothing it couldn’t handle.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve gotten some more intel since our last brief. Traynor and T’Soni have been able to make contact with the STG team, and from what they’ve been told the team has suffered heavy casualties. We’re heading for the main group, the other shuttle going to pick up any stragglers. Apparently they’ve been working with some research data the Asari had here regarding husk sensory systems, so we may be fighting for a better ground-weapon against the Reapers.

“As soon as we hit the ground, Vakarian, Javik and I are going to go and find their leader and begin coordinating their movements with ours. Vega, I want your men to post security around us and render any medical aid needed by the Salarians. Stabilization only, no need to get fancy. Got it?”

“I gotcha, Loco. Crossman, you and first team take the north semi-circle. You’re cleared to engage the enemy as soon as he shows his ugly ass face, but be sure to let us know when you do. Benning, send Ramirez in with his medical supplies and then post your team on the south end, I’ll fill in his spot. Try not to get too excited. We good, Marines?”

“Oorah, Sir.”

James laughed slightly as he strapped his helmet on, double checking the seal and knocking his head roughly twice. The man took up at least a person and a half’s space in the cramped shuttle when fully outfitted with his armor and weapons, the embodiment of a human tank.

“Excelente, that’s what I like to hear right there!”

Thirty minutes later, the shuttle door opened to whipping wind and driving rain, mud greeting Shepard’s boot as it hit the ground. He, Javik and Garrus stepped out almost calmly, seven Marines streaming out with practiced speed behind them, quickly forming into a full circle around the trio. The shuttle took off and they were left only with the sound of the storm over head.

They had landed in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by tall carniferous trees that looked similar to what Earth had sported, except for their soft-blue trunks and veins. The ground was covered with a mossy underbrush that almost resembled grass, if not being a little broader and got larger at the top of the leaves rather than thinner; tall bushes occasionally punctuating the clearing.

As they stepped forwards, Shepard could hear Javik’s voice over the radio, a slight ping indicating he was on a private channel.

“It would appear our Salarian friends missed the landing, Commander.”

“You think we should throw them out the airlock?”

“I think we should be cautious – a team such as theirs would not so casually miss a rendezvous.”

Shepard scanned the landscape and saw a bush twitch the opposite direction of the wind, a small smile spreading over his face.

“Don’t be so certain they’ve missed it, Javik.”

Shepard made for the bush, beating against the rain which ran down his visor, the hydrophobic substance stopping any from sticking but still not preventing the mild view obstruction. As he got within three feet of the bush, it rustled more and a familiar figure seemed to stand up out of nowhere.

“Commander. Glad to see you here, I had hoped to work with you again.”

“Major Kirrahe?”

“Indeed.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“After your success at saving our councilor on The Citadel, my government underwent a change of heart. We had gotten word of some Asari research here, and were sent to pick it up. Unfortunately, Cerberus seems to have learned of our mission.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Almost three weeks now, most of it spent decoding the Asari data. Cerberus showed up about a week ago, nasty business. Heavy casualties.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Where’s the rest of your team? Our shuttle took off, but we have a medic here and can begin evacuation as soon as possible.”

With that, the Major gave a sound which sounded an odd cross between a whistle and a yell, clearly a sound no human vocal cords could make. From the trees surrounding the bush, six more Salarian soldiers seemed to drop out of thin air, landing with wet splashes and too surprised cries from Shepard’s Marines.

Kirrahe gestured at the soldiers. “After our combat with Cerberus, this is about all we have left. Your other team is headed to team three, they have about four men and are hiding out a few clicks south.”

Shepard was confused, counting up the men. _Liara said their team shipped out with fifty-something salarians, and now these nine are all that’s left?_

“Major, our intel said you had fifty-something-odd soldiers when you left. Are you sure there’s no more of you?”

Kirrahe bowed his head, shaking it slightly, his voice sad, but still the measured professional tone Shepard had come to expect.

“We had fifty five, yes. We were unprepared when Cerberus hit, wave after wave of troops. We weren’t outfitted for combat, Commander, the majority of our personnel are listed as “back-up combatants”. Against the kinds of numbers they brought to bear, we suffered high casualties.”

Shepard shook his head, anger boiling low in his stomach. _I know we’ve been losing troops bad but… this is terrible. Eighty percent casualty rate? That’s not combat, that’s slaughter. This war needs to end, Cerberus needs to end. I’m getting real tired of them getting the jump on us._

“Alright, we’ll call the shuttle in, get evac set up.”

Shepard’s comms crackled to life, Cortez’s voice coming over amidst the static and what sounded like cannon fire.

“That’s going to be a little hard, Commander.”

“Cortez? What’s your status?”

“Encountered Cerberus resistance overhead, they brought fighters.” His report paused, canon fire sounding over the comms. “I can swing by in a little bit, but I have to take care of these guys first. I’m tracking hostiles coming your way, stay sharp.”

“Sir! We’ve got contact?”

The four standing in the center ducked as bullets began to fly, Javik, Garrus, and Shepard running over towards the North end of their security perimeter, seeing a continuous line of Cerberus troopers through the trees.

“South-end, contacts?”

“Yes, sir! Looks like we’re surrounded.”

_Shit. Really what I wanted here, a firefight with a full platoon  of Cerberus troops. Really just, peachy._

“Alright. Javik, we need cover. Can you do some special Prothean biotic thing to those trees?”

Shepard looked at Javik and saw him raise an eye, clearly not approving of “Prothean biotic thing”.

“It will be done.”

Three of the trees glowed with Javik’s unique green biotic signature, being torn from their stumps and laid down in a triangle centered in the clearing.

“Take cover!”

Immediately the Marines and Salarians scrambled to take cover, the rain of fire that Cerberus was now raining upon them hitting their cover with muted thuds. Shepard expanded his sniper rifle, pulling it up and scoping down the forward-most trooper, his shot leaving the once-walking man a headless corpse. To his left he could hear Garrus’ Javelin fire, Javik’s ancient beam rifle firing behind him and to his right.

Garrus’ voice came over the coms.

“You know, I was hoping to work on my target practice.”

“I think I prefer it when the targets don’t shoot back at me.”

“That’s because you’re still an amateur, Shepard.”

“Bold words, Vakarian. You gunning for a re-match on the Presidium?”

“What, so we can crown a new king of the bottle-shooters? Nah, I’m good.”

Shepard heard James call out over the comm.

“They’re dropping more behind us, looks like they’ve got some Centurians too.”

Shepard fired his rifle again, the powerful report matching another helmet-explosion down range, another body crumpling without its head. To his right he saw another flash of green-biotics as a few of the Cerberus troopers flew backwards, one snapping against a tree with a sickening crunch.

Shepard dropped beneath the tree as a response of shots impacted the strange wood with muted thuds, the impacts causing the wood to glow slightly around the impact spot. As he dropped, he looked around to monitor the rest of the group, take stock of the surroundings. Vega’s Marines had all taken cover behind the trunks and were working to repel the attack, calling out to each other as they fired and let loose their grenades, their training becoming evident in the combat. The Salarians were inter-mixed with them, not fighting with the same brutal efficiency but still throwing overloads and energy-drains with incredible rapidity. The hell of battle melted away into a confusing collage of bullets and targets and hits and misses, the lethal rhythm of combat settling in as all their minds steeled themselves against the conflict, all their bodies becoming weapons, a single machine built and shaped and designed for war.

_It’s going to be a long night._

1000 Normandy Shuttle Bay

It had all ended poorly. As far as the war was concerned, the struggle against forces which would see all life destroyed and civilization shredded, the battle was minor, the losses acceptable. As far as the galaxy was concerned, only a few men had been lost, but a valuable piece of information recovered and a brilliant STG Major recovered to lead another team, the only losses a few replaceable soldiers who knew the risks when they signed up. As far as the “greater picture” was concerned, just like Hackett had told Shepard over the comm five hours ago, he should have been pleased that they retrieved the information without greater losses. But as far as Shepard was concerned, it ended poorly. Too poorly.

The teams had ended up remaining holed in their tree-cover for upwards of an hour, holding on with too few thermal clips against too many enemies, the STG team losing three more men and two Marines dying in the process. When Cortez had finally managed to make it to the landing zone, his shuttle was beaten and battered, the door screeching and the kinetic barriers fizzling as the dead and wounded were loaded on by the tired and weary. By the time they made it back to The Normandy, she had finished her discharge and their evacuation from the system was speedy to say the least, the practiced crew exiting the area with extreme efficiency.

They lost one more Marine in sick bay as his internal organs failed, one by one, fear apparent in his eyes as the medical beds screamed their mournful tone and Doctor Chackwas, the black under her eyes growing incrementally larger, shook her head at the still armored and grimy and bloody commander. He had retreated numbly to his stateroom, the loss of those men weighing heavily as more losses seen on a personal degree, the tragedy of three bringing light the magnitude of trillions. He had changed. He had reported. And then life performed its cruelest trick of all: it kept on. Despite the body bags stored in cryo-boxes in the cargo-bay, life kept on. Despite the data he reviewed with tired and empty eyes, his heart closed off from the loss, it kept on. Despite all the pain and anger and resentment and anger that coursed through him in waves at the thought of _IF I had only gotten their earlier_ and _If I had told them to keep their head down_ and _How will I ever write their family_ , it kept on.

Until Shepard decided it wouldn’t.

The order had come out at approximately 0830: Burial Away at 1000, a small honor for all those lost amidst the tragedy suffered. A small way of making sure life did not keep on as Shepard and his Normandy stopped to observe their dead, to recognize their sacrifice and let it steel their hearts towards their greater goal; as they stopped to let friends and brothers and sons drift into oblivion peacefully, with recognition of a civilization not burning around them nor crumbling from inside. This was the funeral, technically, for three Marines. But it was so much more.

The containment field at the end of the cargo bay shone an eery blue within the lit chamber as Shepard walked in front of the congregation, his dress shoes echoing loudly amidst the almost-empty room. With the ship left in the hands of EDI, the entire crew was present, those who had them donned in their dress blues and everybody else in solemn faces, formed by divisions behind three simple now-black cargo containers containing their comradres. Behind them, in a single line, stood Liara and Garrus and Tali and Javik, as well as all the Salarians from Chalkhos, all in respectful silence as they mentally paid their respects to the fallen in their own ways, prayers and blessings and farewells of lost traditions and far-away languages.

Shepard centered himself in front of the formation, smartly facing around. His eyes watered slightly under the brim of his cover, but the shadow hid them as his voice rang out with crisp precision.

“All hands, bury the dead!”

From the back of the outer formations, with drill-like precision, nineteen Marines and Crewmen in polished hardsuits stepped towards the front, seven more with rifles and one without following, as Shepard faced again, looking straight ahead into the void in front of him, the star the Normandy was now orbiting shining brightly still through the polarizing field placed over the bay.

Eighteen Marines and Crewmen picked up the three caskets, marching them solemnly forwards through the field onto the ramp, the cargo bay becoming increasingly silent as they entered the vacuum, the nineteenth stopping behind the three evenly spaced, his hand raised as they all looked at them. To Shepard’s left, the seven armed Marines stopped and stood at attention, the eighth at their flank, facing down the line.

Once again, Shepard’s voice rang out, strong and steady.

“Ready, Salulte!”

At the command, the nineteenth man outside let his arm down, the three caskets being cast into the sun in front of them, drifting slowly as their bearers came to attention and drew to a salute, just as the assembled crew behind them did as well, all hands stiff and backs straight as they watched their comrades drift towards the fiery star. The firing team’s commander could be heard issuing commands, softer but with no less authority, as seven rifles came up in unison, loaded in unison, aimed in unison.

Fired in unison.

As the sound of the last volley faded from the room, the salutes fell and Shepard heard a strange sound originate from the back. His training withstanding amidst such ceremony, he faced about again to find himself watching Javik, centered across from him in the formation and with all his eyes closed, singing. The song was unearthly, the Prothean's voices splitting into three tones in a way Shepard had never heard before, fluctuating and harmonizing with each other in truly unknown ways. And yet, the chords resonated, the sound and winding melody of the song sat within every human, Turian, Asari, and Quarian brain as vaguely familiar, a memory lost to dreams of evolutionary childhood.

The alien song grew to fill the bay, all listening as its open chords and repetitive phrases pushed the caskets forwards, towards their fiery end, power and honor and sacrifice echoing through the notes. Slowly, the song came to a close, and Javik looked at the commander, opening his eyes, speaking for all to hear.

"In my cycle, our fallen warriors were honored with that song as they were commended from this world to the next. It was said that the song came from a soldier in a long ago battle who fought in what would become the unifying wars of the Prothean Empire. It was sung only for those warriors who fought with strength and courage against our enemies, a gift of peace for the dead as they left their wars to the living."

As he looked at him, Javik nodded at Shepard, the gesture returned as the Commander realized what an honor had been given to the men whom they were laying to rest. He cleared his throat, preparing to deliver his own speech.

As he began to speak, he removed his hat, holding it in front of him and bowing his head slightly, his voice filling the room but seeming soft, intense, almost intimate to all who heard him.

“In honorable service and sacrifice to The Alliance, we commend these three servicemen to this star, laying them to rest amidst the space they served in and tendering our farewells to the comrades we knew. In the tradition of the sailors to which our service owes so many of our traditions, the bodies are cast off of the ships they served on in life. They are cast into a star, thrown to the creators of matter in this galaxy, that their bodies may be consumed and returned to later life; from ashes to ashes, from dust to dust.”

He took a breath, steadying himself for the more personal part to come, bowing his head as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly out his mouth, raising his head to look into the eyes of the crew assembled before him.

“We all knew these men, good men, fine Marines. They were among the first to join us when we left Earth, fought hard at every opportunity, if only to keep their own morale up. I think I can speak for all of us when I say I never heard a complaint from any of them, always prepared to do what had to be done.”

John took another breath, scraping his mind for the right words, his eyes darting around the room before fixating on Tali, who nodded in his direction, her sad smile beneath the mask remaining unnoticed by all but him.

Shepard continued.

“There is… nothing, I could ever say, to do justice to these men. I could talk about their dedication to The Alliance and their fellow Marines, but it would never describe the true brotherhood they held. I could go on and on about their quality of character, as men and Marines, but it would never do their true integrity justice. We could stand here until the galaxy burned, and I would never be able to do justice to those three men.”

Shepard gestured behind him to the caskets which had since become dots against the vast back ground of the star.

“But instead, I am going to make you a pledge. Instead, I am going to say this: I, we, will make sure that these men did not die in vain. They died defending information which will help us defeat the reapers, against an enemy we should never have to fight, and we will ensure that enemy is vanquished. They died trying to find a better tomorrow, for all of us, and we will make sure that world becomes a reality. They died to give us the chance to finish this fight, and we will do so.”

Shepard’s voice had risen to an impassioned yell, and as he stopped he found himself short of breath, looking at the waiting, now hopeful faces of the crew in front of him, the grief of this tragedy not vanquished but rather appended with a new vigor and hope in the fight. He continued, softer, so much so that his team in the back almost could not hear him, but nevertheless the intensity of passion and intent was clear to every body present.

“I can never do these men justice, not in their farewell. I can never properly summarize and say farewell to such complex and loved and honored men as these. But, crewmates, shipmates: I can, and we will, make sure that it was not for nothing.”

As he finished, Shepard looked to check the dots, watching them approach closer and closer to the sun, receiving a subtle hand signal from the captain of the honor guard. He turned back to the crew in front of him, his voice stronger, more solemn, ceremonial.

“In accordance to the heritage shared by maritime and  Alliance services, and in honor of our fallen, we will now play ‘For Those in Peril on the Sea’ as they are consumed by the star. The ceremony is over, you are free to go about your business. Dismissed!”

As Shepard finished, the speakers in the cargo bay began to play the hymn, the instrumental echoing throughout the chamber, finding resonance where the industrial speakers could give none, a depth granted by the size of the room. Upon the final order, the strict formations dissolved, but many of them stayed, well aware that The Normandy was not scheduled to depart for another 10 hours. They mingled and coalesced, collecting closer to the field, speaking in hushed voices of friends lost and griefs reminded. Shepard stepped forwards towards the field, letting the music wash over him as his eyes began to lose sight of the three dots, even his vision enhancements losing the three bodies amidst the vastness of the star. According to tradition, the recording would be cut the moment all three bodies were lost on Radar, signifying the end of the service and the true departure of the men.

This left, Tali walked up and took his hand, squeezing it as she rubbed against his arm.

“You okay?”

“How can I be, Tali? We just lost three more men. Good men. Good men to a bad godamned war.”

Tali squeezed his hand again as she heard the bitterness in his voice, watched the grief in his eyes leaking into his tear as one escaped slowly from his left eye and ran down his cheek, his lower lip trembling. She spoke softly, close to him, attempting reassurance as best she could.

“They knew what they signed up for, John, they knew what they fought for. I saw the report, saw the footage, there was nothing you could have done.”

“There’s always more I could have done.”

“No, John, not this time. But you were right, there is more we can do: we can end this damn fight. We can put them to rest when Cerberus is a smoking crater on some godforsaken planet.”

“That’s not enough, Tal, that’s not enough.”

At that, Tali took her hand out of John’s, grasping his shoulders and turning him to face her, putting her hands on the side of his face and angling it down to look at her. His eyes darted back and forth, searching her mask as she spoke, looking deeply into his, seeing his grief and insecurity.

“There was a man, one I admire and love deeply, who told me on Rannoch that the best way for me to do justice by all those who died to get us Rannoch was to keep fighting for them. That man, John, is one of the most dedicated, determined, and best men I’ve ever known, he had good advice. I think you should follow it.”

John smiled weakly as he looked at her, bending his forehead down to tap hers, staring deeply into her eyes.

“Maybe he’s got a point.”

As he finished, the music cut, abruptly, at the end of a strain, John closing his eyes and exhaling as he bid farewell once more to three more casualties in the growing sea of Despair. Tali pulled him in for a hug, and he returned, squeezing her tightly as he let his heart settle from the new home it had found in his throat. Major Kirrahe approached, maintaining a respectful distance while John composed himself and Shepard looked up.

“Major?”

“Good ceremony, Commander, I enjoyed the Alliance’s rituals, they seem exceptionally appropriate. Either way, I have a message from an old friend to give to you. I was told to deliver it in case he was ever deceased, but when I learned about the incident we were operating dark.”

Major Kirrahe held out a small data disk which Shepard took and held up to the light, examining it as the Major bowed his head slightly at Shepard and Tali in turn, and then quickly left.

“What do you think it is, John?”

“I more want to know who it’s from.”

1045 Normandy Deck 1

As Shepard put the data disk into the terminal, a familiar visage made itself clear on the screen, the speech beginning quickly as John (sitting in the chair) and Tali (Resting the bottom of her helmet lightly on top of his head) both caught their hearts in their throats.

“Shepard, recording this in event that I do not survive war, likely, but still hopeful. Time spent with you on Collectors best in recent years, felt relevant again, chance to make progress, atone perhaps, still no regrets. Wanted to give gift to you in return, gesture of thanks. Was aware you and Ms. Zorah became intimate during Collector mission, made gift for both really, Ms. Zorah avid conversationalist and enjoyable colleague during work. Had free time when back with STG, accessed old datalog files regarding genophage, applied to Quarian immunology, promising results. Data and serum instructions in data disk as well as predictions, still just theoretical and best suited for one Quarian, but easily modified to fit entire population. Work felt right, Quarians suffered much at hands of biology, wanted to stop that. Plus, it had to be me: someone else might have gotten it wrong.”

Mordin paused for what felt like the first time in an hour as Tali and John both blinked away tears, both at seeing their friend again and hearing of his progress. As the smile left his face, Mordin continued at a much slower pace, this clearly the more emotional portion of his recording, a subject which he did not tackle with the same eccentric enthusiasm he did his science.

“War is… monstrous, in scope, Shepard, so many dead. Heard about Earth, so sorry, wish more could be done. Not pretty, to put it lightly. Doubtful I will survive, too many risks, too many repayments to make. Wanted you to know that… comments on Genophage during mission were hurtful, emotional even, I reacted out of pride and insecurity. But thought has… helped me see situation more clearly, and wanted to thank-you. Came to realize situation too large, too many variables, decision sound given scope of consideration but scope was perhaps… limited. Thank-you, Commander.”

With that, the message ended, both John and Tali openly crying, as the screen began to display a massive file directory, full of simulations and descriptions, pages of notes and compounds. Tali reached around John and scrolled through it, reaching a file titled “Treatment Plan Conclusion”, opening it and reading softly out loud.

“Epigenetic and genetic treatments on five month plan at regular doses predict 57% recovery of auto-immune functionality. Result is subject capable of survival outside suit with bio-chemical decontamination cycles every 27 hours, similar to current toxin filters. Full recovery estimated within 2 years of beginning treatment.”

As Tali finished, silence rang through the room as they both stared at the data and considered what they both read.

_A hope for my people to be out of our masks in two years? Completely? The Geth have been helping but, Keelah, nothing like this. Our entire race could have been saved and returned to our state before the Morning War in a matter of months…_

Tali sank slowly into John’s lap, the shock of both the news and the message from the dead weakening her knees as her mind reeled with the consequences.

_We could be like everybody else. We could wear clothes. Our children could climb trees and mountains and run and play. We wouldn’t need bubbles for the little ones, our faces would be common… I could touch John, kiss him whenever I wanted…_

John spoke first, quietly, stunned. Tali’s response was similar as he subconsciously stroked her back.  

“Mordin…”

“Yeah.”

“Even after he’s been dead for… months.”

“Keelah, this war…”

John turned to the terminal, touching the screen as his eyes welled up again and the tears continued, his voice cracking.

“Thank-you, Mordin. You’re right, someone else… someone…”

As John’s voice crack, Tali finished, wrapping her arm around him and squeezing.

“Someone else might have gotten it wrong.”

After a few deep breaths, John spoke again, his voice high and strained with emotion, mild confusion but utter thankfulness sharing the grief of earlier events, exhaustion overcoming him.

“With stuff like this… Losing those three… gaining this… Mordin helping us even after he died… Tali, this war needs to end. We need to end this.”

Tali stood up, guiding John to the bed as she did so, to which he gave her a confused look.

“Come on, hon, you need to get to bed. It’s been a rough couple of days, and you’ve earned some rest.”

“But it’s 1100 and I’m supposed to be up with Bravo shift…”

“Garrus is still up, and I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“But…”

“No. Bed. Now.”

Tali’s voice was soft but firm as she helped him get undressed, pulling the covers up as she guided him under, quickly removing her cloth and joining him.

“It’s been a long day, you need to get to bed.”

John began to sit up, still protesting, to which Tali chuckled and pushed him gently back down.

“Tali, I only ran one mission, and I still have work to do.”

“Even if you have physical things to do, today has been emotionally exhausting, for all of us. I did some reading on human psychology, remember to help with your… dreams, and all of it said that Humans need a good night’s rest to properly deal with this level of emotional flux. John, even I want to go to sleep, and I’m Quarian. It takes way more to make us try to sleep emotionally.”

John began to protest, listing a long list of need-to-do’s and should-do’s and have-to’s as Tali sat there and listened for about thirty seconds, laughing mentally as he kept talking and listing right over the sound of her helmet seals disengaging, stopping only when he felt her lips upon his.

_That got him quiet fast._

She pulled away tenderly, smiling at him.

“Goodnight, John.”

“God you’re beautiful.”

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of all, I want to say sorry for taking so long on this. And the previous chapter. Because I’m a college student, I thought this summer was going to be pretty easy on time and I would have time enough to write a lot of chapters and get a new one up every day or so, but I’ve recently started working close to a full work-week, and so my time to write has been drastically shortened. Combine that with a killer cold for the past few days (which completely noodled my writing, I wrote this chapter once before and then trashed it because it was so bad and cheesy, well, moreso than normal) and you’ve got a string of delays. Either way, anticipate chapters coming out about once a week now. Sorry , at least I have money!  
> This chapter covers a few things I’ve wanted to deal with for a while. First of all, I took a crack at combat, so that was… interesting, hopefully it wasn’t too skimpy. We’ll see if I write more of it. Second of all, we got to see a Reaper-War funeral, something I’ve always kind of wondered about but we never see (since NPC’s never go on missions), but was also a good way to bring the realities of the war out (see what I did there?). so I got to make up some burial rituals, clearly it’s based off of a Naval Burial at Sea. And finally, we got to play a bit with Mordin and Javik.  
> I’ve always pictured Javik as having a soft spot for warriors. Well, not so much as a soft spot. But a mutual respect for them. He entered this cycle and states that he has been entirely shaped by war, so it only made sense to me that he would feel an inherent bond and respect to others like him. I think I’m going to play with him a little more later, so much potential.  
> And Mordin. So many feels. I haven’t really touched him yet (primarily because I’ve written mostly just in post-rannoch ME3, which I hope to change eventually), so I thought I’d give him a cameo. A feely cameo. A cameo that, honestly, hurt a bit to write. Hope you enjoyed it.  
> Oh, and that Data which the Salarians got? It’ll come back, don’t worry. And the entire Chalkhos thing will serve a purpose. I didn’t just decide to make up a mission randomly. I’ve got something almost sort of kinda maybe resembling a partial almost plan.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed it! As always, tell me what you think in the comments. Suggestions, questions, comments, all are welcome. Enjoy!  
> Also, I've decided this fic needs a new name, since it's grown a little bit beyond it's original "Reunions" title, so please, leave suggestions in the comments!  
> SotS


	11. Taking Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard gets sick and The Normandy gets word of a major discovery.

0630 Normandy Deck 1

Shepard woke up quickly, turning his alarm off and getting himself out of bed before he could let himself get back to sleep. The room was empty save for him, Tali leaving a note on her pillow saying that she was needed at the end of Charlie Shift to coordinate with the fleet, a fact he grunted disappointedly at as he stumbled his way to the shower. It was not until about five minutes into the shower that he started to notice the scratch in the back of his throat when he swallowed, followed quickly by how monumentally plugged up his sinuses felt and the unusual frailty in his limbs.

_This can't be good. Last time I checked, getting sick was NOT a part of our plan to defeat the Reapers… Well, I can still hide this. No reason for anybody else to know. I'm sure if I just drink lots of fluids, keep it on the down-low, etc., I'll get better with time._

He reluctantly turned off the shower and went about his morning routine, slipping into his N7 PT gear before taking the elevator down to the Cargo Bay, being welcomed by about 30 crew members, in various states of alertness, milling around while Vega appeared to be fiddling with his omnitool.

About a week after they had left Earth, Vega had decided it was time to initiate a regular Physical Training schedule for the crew, the idea beginning with "All this running and I still feel like I'm degrading, eh Esteban? We need some good old fashioned workouts here, something to get the blood pumping. You know, beyond the kill-bots and terrorist groups shooting at us." It had evolved into a three-cycle schedule, workouts at 0700, 1600, and 2500 hours. Despite the groaining and various soreness among the crew, there was no denying that it improved morale, the physical exertion helping not only to keep the crew focused, but to provide an outlet for the frustrations which ran so rampant. The only real oddity was Mr. Vega himself, who was apparently dedicated enough to the cause to attend and supervise all three workouts in a day cycle, going so far as to cut his sleep cycle short for the cause.

Vega looked at Shepard as he entered, waving and walking over to The Commander.

"Hey, Loco, come to get your ass whooped again, eh? Last time not enough for you?"

Shepard spoke through a smile, though his nose sounded rather congestion and voice was less vibrant than normal.

"You know me, James, always willing to show you how it's done."

"Yeah yeah, we'll see about that. I've got some good stuff planned for you today, remembered how much you loved those eight-counts from last time."

Shepard chuckled slightly at the collective groans he heard from the rest of the crew-members as they heard the infamous set mentioned, finding himself a spot in the back of the formation as Vega took his place at the front. He walked around to the armor locker and grabbed his weight vest, running back as they began their warm-up, absorbing the energy of the crewmembers as the whining and ribbing gave way to concentrated effort.

It was no secret on-board The Normandy that Shepard could out-pace almost any crew-man aboard, Cerberus' upgrades had made sure of that, and to make up for it Shepard usually completed the same workouts with a twenty kilogram vest on. But the frailty from earlier, the shakiness in his limbs and protests from his throat did not go away as he had hoped, instead only becoming worse as the workout finished.

_Well, maybe some coffee will help. Coffee helps everything, after all. Obviously._

He made his way up with the crew to the Crew deck, joking with the few that talked to him and working to raise their spirits, sharing a few stories of his own from N7 school as they all reached for their breakfast. As they sat and ate, Tali came out of the elevator, smiling and waving at John as she went for the Dextro rations bin. Much to the amusement of the crewmembers around, Shepard stood up to go "fill his coffee cup", though it was already ¾ full.

_Alright, she'll flip if she finds out you're sick at all. Just play it cool, short sentences, no M's._

"Hey Tali!"

Tali spun quickly towards John, stopping everything as she brought her omnitool up, scanning Shepard as he stumbled backwards eyes tracking the orange light that was now directly in front of his face.

"Shepard, when did you start getting congested? And the Fever?"

_Damn._

"Tali, I'm not sick, I've just got a little…"

John started defensively but drifted off as his mind scrambled for a quelling excuse, catching nothing. Tali cocked her head and he could tell she was raising an eyebrow, crossing her arms in front of her expectantly.

"A little…?"

"Uh… Allergy attack?"

"Uh huh. Sure. Come on."

Before Shepard could protest Tali's arm was on his right elbow and he was being marched to sick bay, planted in front of Chakwas, and watching as she tapped away on her omnitool.

_I don't even remember being asked to sit down…_

The Doctor walked over calmly despite Tali's obvious rush, sporting a bemused smile as she pulled up her scanning program.

"So, Commander, caught a little cold, have we?"

"Honestly, Doctor, I don't think it's that bad. Tali, however, seems to think I need to come in for a check-up because of it."

"Well, you were slightly over-due. Don't worry, this shan't take five minutes."

The rest of the tests proceeded with professional efficiency, only the mild hum and the occasional beep of the doctor's omni-tool sounding through the sick-bay. Eventually, the doctor retreated to her terminal, inputting the information into The Commander's file, eventually turning to face him.

"Well, Commander, this is certainly no common cold. Your implants help your immune system take care of most common ailments, filtering them out on-site very effectively. However, it would appear that, during your mission on Chalkhos, you managed to contract a virus which your system is unable to filter, likely because it is so small. Now, it's not deadly, and goodness knows your body has seen worse, but I would be remiss if I didn't order you fifty-four hours of light duty and bed-rest."

"Doctor, you're not saying I can't work, are you?"

"No, Commander, but I am saying you have a very well-trained XO who is more than capable of running these scanning operations, and that you should try to get as much bed rest as possible for the next two days."

John hung his head, slightly dejectedly as he stood up, facing the doctor before turning to leave.

"Aye aye, doctor."

Tali followed him to the elevator silently before he turned to her once the door had closed.

"You're not going to let me leave my stateroom, are you?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Tali, honestly, I'll be alright. I'm sure this is something my body can take care of."

"No, you heard the Doctor. Fifty-four hours of bed rest." John started to protest but Tali held up her hand, silencing him. "I know you're going to say that you'll be fine, you're tough, etc. But honestly, John, you need your rest, to give your body time to deal with this, okay?"

The elevator opened and they both stepped into Shepard's cabin, him shaking his head at his prepped service armor.

_I didn't even get into my uniform today. What kind of message does that send._

"Fine, you make a good point. I'll try and rest, okay?" Shepard began getting undressed, reluctantly. "But you know how much I hate being sick. It feels so…"

"Weak, I know. You think I don't feel the same way when I get a fever just from breathing normal air? You're not weak for getting sick, you're smart for letting yourself recover."

As she spoke, Tali sat on the edge of John's bed, tucking the covers gently underneath him once he was settled. After she finished, she leaned over to the bed-side terminal, turning down the lights in the cabin. She made for the desk by the bed, turning the terminal they had moved their onto low-light mode.

Despite his protests, John was already fast asleep by the time Tali sat down, his speech groggy and soft, causing Tali to smile beneath her mask.

"How was your meeting with The Admiralty?"

"It was good, mostly we reviewed troop deployments, we've got some operating as far as Palaven now. Nothing too strenuous, just a lot of talking and debating."

"And then more talking and debating?"

"Of course, not only are we Quarian but we're a Quarian Government. What else would we do than talk and debate?"

John chuckled softly through his pillow as his eyelids got even heavier, drifting off to sleep as he did so.

1115 Life Support

"Major, thank-you for joining us."

"It was my pleasure."

Garrus chuckled slightly at the statement as he leaned back in his chair, regarding the Salarian who was sitting across from him. Tali and Liara were sitting on either side of him, both doing the same as the major looked eagerly between the three of them. Tali was the first to speak.

"From what you said, Major, you and your team uncovered some interesting and potentially very useful data on Chalkhos?"

"Indeed, perhaps something that might even help us to understand The Crucible."

Liara's omnitool came up, quickly opening to the notepad she kept ready, her eyes sparkling with interest and intense curiosity.

"Please, do tell."

Calmly, the Major brought up his own omnitool, forwarding the three other three participants, speaking concisely, pausing before each sentence to think it out, resulting in a string of perfectly formed statements.

"During their research on Reaper-hybrid sensory inputs, the Asari teams on Chalkhos uncovered an unusual silicon matrix that appears to be present in the primary processing nodes of all Reaper technology. Unlike other synthetics, which seek to replicate the mechanisms of organic systems through electronic signals, this matrix instead created a bed of bio-mass like matter, taking advantage of the atomic similarities of Silicon to closely mimic carbon structures found within organic matter.

"Among other things, this explains one of the ways Reapers can integrate organic matter into their own structures, or integrate their technology into organic systems, essentially creating silicon-based bio-matter at their integration points which can also be used as semi-conductors for their purely synthetic systems, essentially a bridge between the two. The Asari initially dismissed this discovery as inconsequential, the structure being so inherent to Reaper technology that they did not believe it could be targeted. However, upon further research, we concluded that this could be one of the greatest weaknesses of The Reapers."

At this, Tali cocked her head. Liara and Garrus were both aware of the basic concepts which The Major had been discussing, but were also in over their head when it came to bio-technical integration technology. Tali, however, understood the majority of what was being said, and felt that she could even see where this "weakness" might come from, but was stuck on the answer, feeling as though she was peering through darkness over a cliff, almost seeing the bottom but instead only mirages and imaginations.

The Major continued.

"Our research concluded that a highly precise burst of specific-frequency Dark Energy could be used to disrupt the atomic bonds used by The Reapers to create this silicon matrix, essentially dissolving their organic-synthetic interfaces and rendering them if not dead then incredibly debilitated."

All three other members stared at Kirrahe, all three hesitating to immediately believe what they had just heard. Tali spoke first.

"How could such a wave be generated?"

"It could probably be done via highly specific manipulation of an element zero core. However, as already mentioned, it would have to be an incredibly specific wavelength dark-energy signal, thus control of the core would have to be incredibly precise, likely requiring a massive machine."

Liara spoke next.

"Like the Crucible?"

"Precisely."

Garrus cocked his head downwards, his mandibles kept tight against his face as he considered the concepts and ramifications of this information.

"How would it affect our systems?"

"It is unlikely it would, save for the systems that integrate reaper tech. Anything which has directly integrated reaper-technology would be destroyed at an atomic level just as they are. However, the majority of our traditional synthetic and organic systems would remain unchanged, if not experiencing slight power fluctuations in their element zero cores."

Silence permeated the room again as that last statement ran with the four occupants, even Kirrahe understanding the incredible ramifications of such news.

1426 Normandy Crew Deck

"Traynor, would you mind helping me again, I am having trouble with a signal I've picked up."

"Be right there."

Liara continued to stare at her terminals, struggling to make sense of the garbled transmission that was in front of her. It baffled her that she could not figure it out, this issue appeared no more complex than those she handled on an almost daily basis, but nonetheless Traynor had offered to help should any issues arise, and she seemed incapable fo solving the problem.

Within minutes the door chimed slightly with a request for entry, Liara answering "Come in!" immediately after.

Traynor walked in, smiling at Liara as she locked onto the signal displayed in front of the Asari, quickly diagnosing the problems.  _She can't be having trouble with this, I've seen her handle things this complex a hundred times over._

"What seems to be the problem, Liara?"

"Despite my best efforts, I seem to be unable to decode this transmission. I realize it is similar to the interference which I have been traditionally able to handle, but I appear to be…"

"Stuck? Stumped?"

Liara laughed slightly as Traynor gently nudged her out of the way, taking over the terminal and tapping it quickly, the signal quickly resolving into a readable transmission.

"There, all solved. Honestly, Liara, what happened?"

"I don't know, like I said: I have traditionally been able to handle problems many times this complexity, but apparently this one was beyond my capabilities."

Liara looked slightly embarrassed as she said so, defeated almost. Traynor smiled warmly at her friend, trying to ease whatever she was feeling.

"Well, there were some odd oscillations in the tight-band range. Maybe you're just having a bit of a day."

"Perhaps."

Liara looked lost in thought, staring out the window as she agreed with Traynor, her stare distant and her face as stoic as ever.

"Well, if that's all you need from me…"

"No, wait..."

Liara looked up suddenly, looking at Traynor almost manically. Her face showed an instant of worry, appearing distraught at the thought of Traynor leaving, followed closely by befuddlement before she reigned it back in, as confused over her own reaction as Traynor was, the human woman struggling to hide the perplexed look which sat beneath her well-mannered surface. Liara's mind was racing.  _There is little more I need her for, and she has duties elsewhere on the ship. Why on earth should I be worried that she would leave? There is not reason I should have a reaction anything close to this. Troubling…_

"Liara? You were saying?"

Lost in thought, Liara had apparently fixed her semi-vacant stare through the middle of Traynor's forehead, the specialist waving her hand gently in front of Liara's eyes as she asked for the completion of the statement.

"Oh, yes. Well, I was wondering if you would be willing to run a diagnostic on my decryption systems, they seem to be running a bit slow."

Traynor's mouth moved into a flattered, though confused smile, as she leaned back, crossing her arms and looking at Liara with a raised eyebrow, bemused.

"I think glyph is more than capable of that."

Liara shook her head, again her mind insisting on Traynor's completion of the task.

"Indeed, but I trust your opinion more, specialist. Glyph has yet to find any anomalies."

Traynor cocked her head, raising her eyebrow farther as her eyes searched Liara's, the corner of her smile raising farther as she tried to make sense of the request. Liara's face was as placid as ever, though her eyes appeared to be slightly confused, her mind racing to figure out her statement as fervently as Traynor's, befuddled by her own strange insistence on taking Traynor's time.

_Traynor is right, glyph should be more than qualified to identify any problems with the system, perhaps I am making it up. If so, I should tell her! But that seems so… unreasonable. Goddess, why am I acting so strangely?_

Traynor raised her hands, shrugging and smiling back, the request odd but, truth be told, she had come to enjoy the time she spent with The Asari, their friendship growing.  _Plus, how could I say no to a system like hers._

"Fine, Liara, I'll do it. But I can't give you the report during my working hours, want to catch a meal and I can tell you anything I find? Maybe convince you to give me some stories from the First Normandy?"

Liara felt herself flush slightly, despite herself, the heat behind her cheeks increasing, though she convinced herself she didn't know why.

"Ye… yes, that'd be nice."

Traynor smiled largely at Liara, pleased her offer had been taken up.  _Liara's a legend, but she's also… fun. I can certainly understand why the rest of The Team considers her a good friend. Plenty of secrets, sure, a little frightening, if I'm being honest, but her stories too… and her wit, damn if she isn't one of the smartest people I've ever met._

"Good, I'll see you then."

Traynor walked out and, after the doors had closed, a slight grin slipped onto Liara's face.

_Goddess, why am I being so… irrational?_

1700 Normandy Deck 1

John's eyes opened slowly as he woke up, though looking around the room he couldn't say why. Tali was sitting at her desk, possibly sleeping, and everything else was as quiet as ever.

_Well, I've never one to say no to a good opportunity…_

Quietly, he slipped into the PT gear he had sneaked into bed with him the last time he woke up, Tali's watchful eye more imprisoning than comforting, and slid as silently as he could out of the sheets, his feet softly making contact with the cold floor.

_I'm not well yet… but I can't just leave Garrus to run everything…_

Slowly bringing his omnitool in front of him, he hit the icon for his tactical cloak, his body disappearing in a shimmering flash as he became utterly invisible, giving him leave to move stealthily around the room, making his way straight for the door. Smiling to himself, he reached up for the panel, activating the silent protocols from his omnitool and bringing up the exit command.

_I'm not an infiltrator for nothing…_

The entire panel turned red and Tali sprung up, looking at him. Immediately his shields were dropped and he was left staring dumbfounded at a Quarian who looked an equal mix of amused and displeased. Her voice was slightly aggrivated, but in all honesty it was much more amused that he had attempted to sneak out.  _And he didn't think I'd rig the door to alarm me when he left..._

"John…?"

John raised his hands in defeat, deciding to plea his case.

"Tali, please. I've been in here all day, just let me at least make my rounds? Please?"

"No, you heard the doctor. Bed. Rest. **"**

"I know, but honestly, I just need to connect with a few members of the crew. They need to see me, I'm their captain. Would a Quarian captain stay locked in his stateroom because of a little cold?"

Tali cocked her head, considering the statement, before sighing and gesturing for the door, her voice conciliatory if not slightly defeated.

"Fine, go. But get back here soon."

John smiled slightly, nodding.

"Thank-you. In the mean-time, you need to go to bed."

Tali looked at him, shaking her head as she resumed her seat.

"No, I can't. The admiralty needs more recommendations, more information on Reaper capabilities. And, as it would turn out, not only am I our leading expert on Geth incursions, but Reapers as well."

John walked over, gently putting down the datapad that she had picked up and sitting on the desk, looking her in the eye.

"Tali, please. You've been working non-stop today and you even fell asleep while working. You need sleep too."

"John, you know as well as I do that sleep doesn't beat the Reapers. Besides, I was just resting my eyes."

John angled his head, raising his left eyebrow and fixing Tali with his best "Really?" look, causing her to giggle a little bit.

"Honestly, I'm fine."

John only responded with more glare.  _Damn him, he knows I can't stand up to that…_

When Tali spoke it wasn't angry, or defeated, instead just bemusedly frustrated and extremely fatigued. Truth be told, John was right, Tali had been working since 0400 that day with The Admiralty, and that was after a long day at engineering the previous cycle. She was exhausted. Falling asleep at work was the largest sign, but her judgement and thinking had been off all day, calculations and tactics which should have been second nature were sluggish, dragging through the jam of fatigue which sat heavily in her head. She was just slightly too stubborn to admit it.

"Fine, yes, I need sleep. But only three hours. I frankly can't afford more."

John smiled, taking the victory where he could get it, kissing the top of his visor as he went to grab his service pants and N7 jacket, his typical "off-day" attire.

"That's fine, I just needed you to sleep."

"Only so long as you promise to do everything you can to recover?"

John stopped dressing, tenting his fingers over his chest in feigned indignation.

"And when have you ever known me to be anything but the perfect patient?"

Tali angled her head, raising her eyebrow beneath his mask at his sarcasm as he laughed, resuming fastening his boots as he waved at her.

"Yes, yes, I promise. I'll get to bed soon."

"I just don't like seeing you sick, John."

"And I don't like seeing you exhausted, Tali."

Tali laughed slightly as Shepard made his way to the door, only a little bit of paleness remaining from his slightly more sallow-of-late complexion. She smiled as she saw him.  _How he can change himself from a sick john into Commander Shepard so quickly will always be a mystery._

"Just, take care of yourself, okay?"

As John walked through the door, he looked back and smiled.

"Only so long as you do the same."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I realized my AO3 posting of this story was behind the other places I have it. So here's the chapter that's been missing. Admittedly, more than a bit fluffy. I like to try and alternate between heavy and fluffy, so this felt like a nice break after the past chapter. I don't think sick-Shepard turned out quite the way I'd like, but I enjoyed the thought of a slightly over-protective Tali when John does get sick, so there you have it. Also, sorry if Kirrahe's explanations got a little science heavy (and probably inaccurate, I'm no biologist, but last time I checked Silicon can't integrate into carbon chains, so the entire concept could be mistaken but, hey, it's science fiction), but I thought it was necessary, and will definitely be used later... As always, let me know what you think, and if there are any ideas you want to see, please let me know!
> 
> SotS


	12. Back to Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Normandy turns back to The Citadel, Joker gets asked some interesting questions and The rest of the ward room learns about Kirrahe's discovery

Normandy, Crew Deck, 0855

“Well, look who decided to finally get himself out of bed?”

Shepard turned to see Garrus as he stepped out of the elevator, still smelling like shaving cream and shampoo in his well-polished boots and fresh uniform. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, shaking his head as he shook his hand, taking the lead as he and Garrus made the short walk from the elevator to the “ward room”.

“Yeah, well, you know how it is. Get a little cold…”

“And get strapped by your resident Quarian?”

Shepard looked again at Garrus to see the flared-mandible grin which had become so synonymous with cheeky wit and sarcasm for the past two years. _Well, four for everybody else. Still haven’t figured out whether or not we count those birthdays in my age…_

“No, then you have to be intelligent and stay in bed to ensure you’re healthy enough to save the galaxy.”

“Ah, yes. You could always cough on the Reapers?”

“I’d rather not. What’ve we got in there today?”

Garrus straightened his posture the slightest bit and clasped his hands in front of him after he handed Shepard the datapad in his hand, looking intently at the Commander while he relayed, with a complete lack of sarcasm or anything other than strict professionalism.

“Nothing unusual today. We’ve made for the Citadel per your orders and are making progress as predicted. We stopped for a few planet scanning areas where Tactical said it was likely we would find something, picked up some fuel and a few pieces of intelligence. The biggest issue today should be Kirrahe’s information after Chalkhos, He’ll be joining us at 0915 to brief us on that. Vega has trained up a few marines to take the place of our recent casualties and Boyd says there are replacements waiting for us at the Citadel.”

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

Shepard turned and stepped back as Garrus stepped forwards, unlocking the door and walking in, stopping besides the door as he barked out “Attention on Deck!” Shepard took his deliberate steps into the room, making his customary stop at the coffee machine to pick up what was arguably his most important morning ritual, making his way to his seat as the rest of the officers in the room resumed their seats. They all appeared in various states of fatigue, all well-pressed and groomed as Shepard had made known was expected of his officers, but there were some like Baker and Boyd who were giving up the first hour of their sleep cycle to attend, and some like Tranning and Dyphe that were on-going. Shepard and Garrus floated above the typical 27 hour schedule, often to the detriment of their own sleep, to ensure that they can be up whenever they needed to be and oversee ships operations when it was needed which, in this instance, left Garrus conducting this meeting at the end of a 20 hour stint and Shepard beginning his “day” with it – _at least, day in the sense of waking period. I’m not even certain when the last time I slept a regular day was…_

Set his datapad in front of him slightly askew, sipping his coffee while he stared at the middle of the table. He was aware of the seven pair of eyes on him, as well as how scaldinigly hot the liquid was (a fact his tongue soon reminded him of), but he did so more as a way to signify the beginning of the meeting than to actually ingest the liquid. It was a trick he had learned from Anderson, the now-Admiral then-Commander always pausing to take a drink out of _his_ omnipresent coffee cup before meetings. At the time, Shepard had dismissed it as a simple tick, until it had been explained, much to Shepard’s surprise, in the SR-1’s captain’s quarter’s. “Remember, Shepard, people like to know when they’ve begun a meeting in earnest, find something that will alert them to it. Clicking a stylus, straightening a chair, whatever, do it at the beginning of every meeting. You won’t have to wait long before they’ll know to get down to business when you do. Me? I drink my coffee.” _Guess we really do pick up habits everywhere. Even the mild caffeine addiction._

Shepard set down his coffee cup, smiling and nodding at the mental image he had of the much younger Anderson as everybody in the room seemed to straighten in their chairs, preparing their datapads and omnitools as they subconsciously recognized the beginning of the meeting. He straightened out and activated the datapad in front of him before leanining his forearms against the table, clasping his hands in front of him as he turned his head, surveying the room and making eye-contact with every officer within. After about thirty seconds of silence, he began.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, and Turian. We’ve got our resident Salarian coming to join us in about fifteen minutes to update us on some of the new progress that’s been made in understanding Project Crucible. I’d rather not keep him waiting, so you have that much time to tell me what you’ve been doing with my ship,.”

With a nod Shepard ended his opening statement, looking to Tranning as the Lieutenant stood up smartly, delivering his report with typical cool precision, if anything even more so now that his role had settled with him more. The rest of the brief continued in fairly similar fashion, at the very least typical, Dyphe’s nervous stiffness the foil to Baker’s loose swagger, Vega’s too-tight, too-uncomfortable uniform contrasting Boyd as she spoke with sky-blue intensity that still burned with incredible ambition.

As Boyd sat down, the door opened behind them and Major Kirrahe came walking in, this time in full armor with his helmet under his arm, a fact which caused Shepard to cock his head. He stood up as the Salarian made his way farther inside, offering his hand, a gesture which took the Major slightly by surprise but which was still obliged.

“Major, thank-you for joining us.”

Kirrahe closed his eyes and bowed his head, standing at what appeared to be a stiff attention while he spoke, looking Shepard directly in the eye.

“Thank-you, Commander. Your hospitality to my remaining men and willingness to transport us to The Citadel is most appreciated.”

“You know, Major, this isn’t a combat zone. We’ve got a few other members of the crew who insist on wearing armor everywhere…” a quick glare was shot at Garrus whose mandibles flared slightly “…and even I prefer my Service Armor, but the helmet was a bit unnecessary.”

The Major cocked his head slightly, mildly confused, before his face suddenly lit up with understanding.

“Apologies, Commander, I was operating off of Salarian protocol. On board Salarian ships, it would be improper to show up for a meeting with the Commanding Officer without the entirety of our hard suits, similar to you showing up without your shoulder-pads or belt. If you would like, I can leave my helmet outside.”

“No, it’s fine. Please, you have the floor, tell us what you can, and remember: we’re not all scientists here.”

“Aye aye, Commander.”

Shepard smiled slightly as he heard the traditional Human Naval response come from the Salarian and resumed his seat, preparing his datapad for notes as he did so, leaning forwards again, eyes glued to Kirrahe. The Major walked to the end of the room bringing up his omnitool as he set his helmet down on the table, still standing at a strict attention. _He must really be a sight in his natural military setting._ As soon as he saw Shepard settled, the Major began. As he spoke he paced back and forth throughout the room, cycling eye-contact with each of the occupants on laughably even four second intervals, going precisely three paces to the left before turning around, the epitome of smart precision. His voice remained metered the entire time, though during the more interesting or passionate portions of his speech he let his hands come in front of him to demonstrate, either making small gestrues himself or manipulating his omnitool. The officers in the room knew well enough, either smart enough or enraptured enough to remain quiet throughout the entirety of the brief.

“If you would please all slave your omnitool displays to me, we shall begin. Thank-you. Now, unfortunately, this information is rather hard to understand without a degree in advanced molecular biochemistry and quantum physics, but the basic concepts may still be understood without. During our time on Chalkhos, my team and I salvaged research conducted by Asari teams into disruption of Reaper-hybrid sensory inputs, hoping to debilitate husks, cannibals, and other Reaper ground-forces by overloading their sensory feeds, similar to a flash-bang grenade for organics. Their research was unsuccessful towards this end, but in their research they uncovered a previously unknown aspect of Reaper technology.”

A few taps on the Major’s omnitool, and on Shepard and the other officers’ omnitools came up an atomic diagram that looked like something out of a college textbook, illustrating the interfacing between a mass labelled “silicon matrix” and another mass labelled “organic matter”. The Major continued.

“It would appear that Reapers use a silicon matrix that is incredibly similar to organic carbon compounds to integrate with our matter. Without going too far into the chemical particulars, this integration means that the reaper technology binds with the organic matter at an atomic level, marking the interface between the two as almost perfect and allowing for the sturdiness, adaptability, and incredible capability observed in Repaer forces. It was found, through further analysis of Reaper technology, that this same matrix is present even in entirely-synthetic components.”

A few more taps, and this time there was displayed a wave washing over the diagram, dissolving the “silicon matrix” but leaving the organic matter intact.

“We found, through further research, that it is possible to emit an energy wave that dissolves this matrix, essentially destroying reaper technology at an atomic level. This silicon matrix does not exist in any organic matter, nor in any of our own synthetic systems, and as such all would remain undamaged. All Reaper forces, however, would be rendered inoperable.”

The Major paused, but this time for dramatic effect as he watched the faces of all of the officers change from struggling comprehension to shock as they saw what this meant, the power and advantage this gave.

“It is now our hypothesis that this wave is what the crucible is intended to generate, on a massive scale, using the catalyst to broadcast it over a large operating area, essentially eliminating all reaper threats in the area. Unfortunately, we do not have any predictions on the wave’s range, but it is nonetheless likely, given the scope of the project, that it is at least eight light minutes, if not more.”

The Major stopped, resuming his attention at the head of the table as the air hung heavily in the room. A few of the officers looked down at their hands or the table in front of them, all peering beyond their settings to see a possibility of victory that had never been considered before. For all their hope, for all their work, it had become a foregone conclusion among them that, if victory was to be achieved, it would not be one that any of them would live to see, be that because of the length of the war or just the sacrifices needing to win it. There was an easy dedication among them, a willingness to dedicate themselves wholly to the cause that was borne of men and women who had condemned themselves as dead already but were not willing to go quietly into that good night. All of that, however, was changed. At a short speech from a single Salarian, they all began to see the end of the tunnel, could suddenly glimpse a future in which they survived through the war and believe a scenario in which theirs was the world to rebuild.

Vega spoke first. Staring almost emptily at the table in front of you, his mouth hanging open.

“Shit, man.”

Kirrahe turned to face him, raising an eyebrow slightly at the expletive.”

“Indeed, Lieutenant.”

Dyphe was next, stuttering over his words slightly, but his voice nonetheless  hopeful, his brow furrowed as his engineering mind made sense of what was just said.

“S… So, what you’re saying, I mean, what that means, well… So this weapons kills reapers and only reapers?”

“Not quite. It would affect anything that had included reaper technology hardware, but otherwise would leave our systems undamaged. At most, they would experience a short term power fluctuation, perhaps even a forced re-boot.”

Again, silence hung in the room like the ghost of years that were never expected.

Boyd spoke, this time, looking to shepard as she did so, her eyes uncharacteristically sallow as she did so, her face becoming paler than the white ceramic cup in front of her, something that was almost fear appearing in her blue eyes.

“Commander… EDI, uses Reaper tech.”

Silence dominated, but hung heavily this time, threatening to smother the new hope that had been found as death once again made its spectral form known in all their minds, Shepard’s brow contracting immediately as he opened his mouth slightly and looked down. EDI interrupted, causing a ubiquitous draw of breath as she startled them.

“Commander, I believe I have a solution?”

The Commander looked up, speaking to the disembodied voice, his eyebrows raised in mild hope and his voice quieter than normal.

“Yes, EDI?”

“After analyzing the data that Major Kirrahe provided, I agree with his assertion that our systems would remain undamaged. It would be possible for me to store my consciousness within a conventional storage device immediately before the detonation of this weapon, then transferring my critical systems to conventional processors. My computing power would be greatly limited, and I would be off-line for all intents and purposes until my current processors were brought back online, but I would, nonetheless, survive.”

“EDI, would we be able to get your current processors back online?”

“I have no empirical evidence yet, but suffice it to say that, in theory, yes.”

Shepard looked down at the table again, numbly leaning back in his chair, his face blank. He reached for his coffee cup without looking, bringing it to his lips and finishing it, his mind racing. _This is it. This could end the war. We were promised a super weapon, and now we might even know how it works… But EDI could die. That’s not even something she signed up for, this is a risk she was born with. Nonetheless, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. But that’s a terrible way to think. But it’s true. No, we’ll find a way. She’ll find a way._

By the time the Commander’s coffee cup landed back on the table, the rest of the room’s occupants looked at him, risking being sliced by the sharp steel that was in his green eyes when he looked up again.. He leaned forwards, resuming his position from earlier in the meeting. His face had become a mask of solid, dogged, unrelenting determination, his lips flattening out and his eyebrows forming a solid line low over his eyes. His voice was not as hard as it had been, but could only be described as the unstoppable force that was about to blow through an immobile object

“Alright, EDI. We’ll get you through this. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think we just found a way to win this war.”

Normandy, Cockpit, 1300

As the door opened behind Joker he continued to lookthrough the window, gazing at the stars beyond and the mild blue haze that obscured them from their FTL travel. On the original Normandy he rarely left his chair, constrained not only by his disease but also because he had nowhere to go. The SR-2, however, had four power-bus housings on the Starboard side of his station, with a little nook in-between him that he found exceptionally cozy. He had thrown some cushions in there, without telling Shepard, of course, but certainly not without The Commander noticing, and it was a hastle to get into his little nook, but it turned out to be wondrous for some of the few times that the unavoidable melancholy of this war got to him. _They only call you Joker when you tell the Jokes, not when you’re always laughing_

“Jeff, I brought you hot chocolate.”

He turned his head as he heard EDI, walking up with two steaming mugs, the cockpit door closing behind her as she strolled towards him. He had been reclining, with his feet splayed in front of him and his head resting on the starboard support of his helms console, but after quite a bit of positioning and a little cursing, managed to bring himself to a semi-sitting position as EDI leaned over, handing him one mug.

“Wait, EDI, what’s the second cup for?”

EDI cocked her head as she made to step into the little nook next to Jeff, the level in her cup varely fluctuating two degrees even as she stepped onto the pillows and over the housings. _Benefits of being a supercomputer, I guess._

“It is for me.”

Joker stared dumbly at her for a few seconds before he began laughing, continuing as he scooted himself over, making room for her to sit next to him.

“EDI, no offense, but you’re a machine. You don’t drink hot chocolate.”

As if to spite him in response, EDI took a sip of the liquid while looking at him, a strange set of soft mechanical whirrs following that sounded vaguely like swallowing.

“Actually, Jeff, this platform was equipped with a liquid and food containment system. It was deemed necessary by its designers that it be able to consume food for infiltration processes.”

Joke choked slightly on his hot chocolate, almost spilling it before EDI’s hand came up with alarming speed, grasping the mug and steadying it as he coughed through his scaldingly hot drink.

“Wait, you can eat? Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“What happens… you know. After?”

“The material is compressed using localized mass effect fields into pellets, which are then ejected through a port at the bottom of my foot at a discrete time.”

Joker shook his head, the melancholy he had been experiencing previously slowly settling back into his head as he took his mug back from EDI, cupping his left hand underneath it as he rested it in his lap.

“I’m not certain if that’s cool or just weird.”

The two sat in silence for a while, EDI matching Jeff’s stare as he looked through the window above, both occasionally sipping their hot chocolate, EDI with mechanical precision and form, the exact same way every time, Jeff eventually spilling some on his pants. As they continued to relax, EDI eventually let her hair leave it’s combat form, reshaping it into the pony-tail that Jeff had earlier stated a preference for. She did not do so commonly, and her hair was kept in its normal configuration upwards of eighty percent of the time, but occasionally, during small moments with just Jeff in the cockpit, she would change it, for him.

Eventually, she broke the silence, almost tentatively.

“Jeff?”

Jeff continued to stare through the window, responding only with a sound that was a perfect hybrid between an low hum and a grunt. EDI had yet learned that this was invitation enough to continue.

“Why do you love me?”

With alarming force Jeff’s mug came down on the housing to his right and he turned to face her, grimacing slightly as he felt the sudden movement strain his ribs but not caring, his face erupting into consternation, a mix between anger, confusion, and helplessness. His voice was the same broil of emotions as he struggled to keep it down, coming out as a slow, if not steady, low-talk. _Shit, I’ve been down this before. First it’s “Why do you love me?” then it’s “Oh, is that all?” then it’s “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight” and next thing you know you’re drunk on Arcturus Station with a broken leg and a useless set of rings._

“EDI… what… why, do you need to know?”

EDI looked at him, her eyes flickering slightly over his expression. It was clear that he was in distress, though it was not the reaction she was hoping for, and her mind literally raced, two hundred times faster than the average computers’, through methods of calming him down, though sadly emotions proved harder to predict, comprehend, and analyze than any other data, an increasingly recurring event. She responded evenly, looking as earnestly as her platform’s synthetic eyes and expression would allow at Jeff.

“I am curious.”

Again, the anger and boil of emotions, with such intensity that Joker thought he was going to burn up.

“No, EDI, that’s not why you ask questions like that. That’s just… people don’t do that.”

Again, the calm response, its coolness strangely reassuring to him, a familiar voice and beacon through the storm of his confused and surprised and bitter and sad and heart broken and scared emotions.

“I do, Jeff. I am not asking only to condemn your response, if that is what you are implying.”

Jeff stared incredulously at her as she paused, pursing his lips and rubbing his beard as he considered what she had said, searching her eyes for any sign. _Damn, I guess titanium eyes aren’t exactly windows to the soul._ Thankfully, EDI continued.

“I was only wondering what has caused you to form such a close attachment to me. It is not uncommon for operators to personify their machines, even to the point of installing VI’s to simulate emotional reciprocation. However, it is uncommon for humans to seek relationships with Organics, even more so with AI’s, for obvious reasons. I was curious what it is you… love, about me, that has caused our relationship to assume so much emotional and sentimental meaning.”

Joker opened his mouth slightly and stared at EDI, raising an eyebrow as he made his way through her logic. He laughed at the ridiculousness of such a question – _I guess that’s what you get for dating you ship’s damn AI –_ as he turned onto his back, reclaiming his mug and reclining further, staring at the stars through the window. _In all fairness, she has a point. But don’t tell her I said that. I’m not exactly into the whole “femme fatale sexy robot” stereotype thing. And yet, here I am cuddling up with the robot body of my ship. Okay, come to think of it, she has a really damn good point._

Silence permeated the room with the exception of the gentle hum of the ship, Jeff’s eyebrows coming together in thought as he pondered EDI’s question, EDI matching his stare into the stars beyond. He saw a galaxy of freedom, infinite possibility and direction, an expanse of space and time in which he could lose himself forever, lose himself from the pain and hardship and inequity of his life, dance with the stars, a dance that didn’t need whole legs or strong bones. He saw possibility and hope, a reminder of the duty that has kept him within the ship, within the uniform; an endless road that simultaneously called him down its unknown path and also reminded him of why he didn’t travel it. She saw the constellations and faculae of distant stars, the relations of distance and science, a galaxy that was perhaps lacking the unscientific wonder that the man next to her saw, but was no less special for it, no less vast and wonderful. She had since learned, on her own, to marvel at the complexity of the coincidence which was existence, the laws that governed it and the beautiful equilibrium which was the playing field of matter and life; but through Jeff she had begun to learn to wonder at it, to see not what she knew but what she didn’t know, to not seek the explanations before acknowledging the wonder at not knowing, the beauty of the void in the world of knowledge. The infinity of curiosity was something she was programmed with, but something she had never begun to enjoy until Joker had started to show her how.

Slowly, Joker began to respond to her odd question, still staring into the space above them.

“That’s… that’s a strange question EDI. I’m… not good at this shit, you know, the emotional stuff, maybe I’m just immature. Chakwas’d agree.” He chuckled slightly, clinging desperately to the hope that humor would diffuse what felt like the ticking time bomb of the conversation. _Oh, if only mom could see me now._ “Alright. I think… I dunno. I think I love you because… Well, I just do?  Shit, that’s not right. You… you don’t judge. You haven’t ever looked at me any differently than the rest of the crew, and there’s not a lot of people who do that. We’ve been through a lot, we’ve seen enough together that I guess that’s a part of it? There’s… You’ve always bee there for me, always taken care of me. I guess that’s the biggest thing.”

There was a pause while EDI considered the answer.

“But other members of the crew take care of you, some moreso than I have. Why would that cause you to love me?”

Joker laughed, desperately, clinging to any answer he could find within himself. Eventually, he took a breath, still looking out the window, trying to organize his mind, put away the butterflies in his stomach. _Alright, Jeff, come on. You can say this, you read enough of those stupid poetry and romance books in flight school to explain it. Don’t seize up, don’t make a joke. You owe her that much._

“Sometimes… you know, sometimes there isn’t really a cause, EDI. I mean, I can tell you everything I like about you sure, that’s easy. But why I… love you? Yeah, sometimes that doesn’t have an explanation. It’s one of those little quircks of the puny organics, I guess: We go from liking to loving somebody for sometimes no reason at all. Hell, E, sometimes you don’t even realize it’s happening. It just sort of… does. I’m sure you could dissect my brain and find some biochemical reason, I’m fairly certain Mordin was eying my skull for a while. But, in terms of a reason that I know… sometimes there isn’t one.”

EDI looked at him, cocking a head slightly, looking slightly down and to the left as she thought about it, examined it, dissected it with every psychological, literary, anthropological, theory in existence.

“So, you’re saying it is a semi-random occurance with no observable cause, but which still aligns relative to the individuals’ personalities to produce a typically beneficial pairing, despite the lack of predictability?”

Joker looked at her, laughing slightly as he took a sip from his hot chocolate.

“Close enough. Do I even want to ask why you’re here next to me?”

EDI paused, thinking for a minute, before she smiled slightly and reached up, pointing Joker’s head straight forwards so that she could rest hers on his shoulder.

“There’s a reason I asked.”

Joker paused for a minute, considering what had just been said as he and EDI continued to look up at the stars. Her skin was warm, a benefit of the infiltration purpose of the platform, and the weight on his shoulder was comfortable, rivled only by the feeling of the G-force of her thrust during a heavy turn for his favorite feelings. Eventually, he turned his head, kissing her gently on the top of her head, surprised, as always, that synthetic fibers could re-create the feeling of hair so well.

“Not knowing has never felt so good.”

“I agree, Jeff.”

Normandy, Deck 1, 2500

Shepard walked into the stateroom, carrying two hot plates of food, stepping through the door to be greeted to the sound of a haptic interface being used at blazing speed and a muttering Quarian, her voice strangely clear. Tali was bent over his desk, working away on his terminal while muttering to herself. He chuckled lowly as he walked over and placed the plates in between the piles of datapads on his table, making his way to the closet, removing and hanging up his service armor. As he did so, he turned his head over his shoulder to talk to Tali.

“What’re you working on, Tal?”

Tali continued muttering, not even moving her head. He continued to watch her, hoping for a response, before trying again.

“Tali?”

“Tali’Zorah?”

Still, nothing.

“Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy?”

Tali cocked her head, bringing up her omnitool, tapping it a few times before turning to face him, ignorantly asking “John? Did you say something?”

John’s brow immediately furrowed in concern as she turned to face him, finishing hanging up his armor as quickly as he could before turning to face her. Tali was unmasked.

“Tali? Is your suit okay?”

“What? Oh. Oh! You mean the mask?”

John’s face became even more concerned as he crossed his arms, resting all of his weight on his right leg, leaning back slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, the lack of a mask that usually means you’ll be sick of the next week? That.”

Tali smiled widely, standing up and holding her arms out to draw attention to herself, her eyes lighting up more so than normal as she ecstatically gave her reply.

“Mordin’s experiments! I started some of the gene therapy he gave me, and part of it is going without a mask for two hours every other day. So… you get me maskless.”

John’s eyes opened slightly as he listened to what she said before he too erupted into a gigantic grin and rushed over, causing her to squeak slightly (though she’d deny it if ever confronted, on pain of shotgun) as he picked her up and spun her around in the landing, placing her back down and placing his arms on her shoulders, holding her at arms’ length as he looked at her face, pausing to do so for a few seconds before bringing her in for a short but joyful kiss. His voice was uninterrupted, unadultered joy, the kind that she hadn’t heard from him for months.

“That’s fantastic! So it’s working?”

Tali laughed slightly at the display, looking into his eyes as she smiled back at him so broadly that it made her face hurt.

“Yes! And well too. From what his notes say, I’ll be running a mild fever for the next two or three weeks, just as my body re-develops its immune system, but everything about it seems to be working. I can even eat real food. Whole, non-tube, food!”

John’s face erupted even further in excitement as he sprung towards the door, throwing a hasty “I’ll be right back.” Behind him as he bounded out of the door, leaving Tali standing almost dumbfounded in place. Not two minutes and one confused Turian later John walked back through his stateroom door carrying a steaming plate of dextro breakfast food and a set of utensils. Tali raised an eyebrow and cocked a hip curiously, nodding at the plate before looking back at John.

“I passed Garrus fixing himself breakfast on my way up. He hasn’t touched it, and so long as you can eat solid food, I’ll be damned  if you don’t.”

Tali laughed as she followed John’s lead turning for the table and sitting down, giggling slightly as he placed the food in front of her with over-played showmanship. “Well, I’m sorry for denying Garrus his breakfast.”

John sat down next to her, removing the thermal covering from his own plate, laughing as he began to cut his “meat”.

“I’m sure Garrus’ll be fine. I’ll let him beat me at bottle shooting or something to make it up to him.”

Tali held her knife and fork slightly hesitantly, looking repeatedly from her food to the utensils before shrugging slightly and taking her knife to the food, trying to copy John’s form as she cut her eggs. When she got the food into her mouth she closed her eyes slightly, exhaling through her nose as she chewed her food, letting the taste and texture dance around her mouth in a way that even the most exorbitantly flavored paste could never match. John laughed slightly as he swallowed his food,reaching for his water cup as he looked to her.

“Good?”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Shepard took another bite, swallowing quickly and taking another drink of water before talking, holding his silverware over his plate and leaning forwards slightly, looking at Tali as he talked.

“Well, we’ll be at the Citadel in a few hours. Think we should pick up some more Turian food?”

Tali laughed, glad for the no-business dinner they had agreed upon, the frustration of dealing with a short-sighted admiralty and overly-beaurocratic Hierarchy building for the past two hours.

“Maybe just cooking lessons. I don’t know where Garrus learned to cook this.”

John smiled, scrapig the last of his “Mashed Potatoes” off of his plate and finishing his water. Despite the rareness of the rest meals provided, he was still too ingrained with the habit of eating quickly, a skill learned at N7 school and every posting since, always trying to be prepared for whatever freak mission which inevitably came immediately after a meal.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do. Should I tell him to calibrate the stove?”

“Keelah, no, because then we’ll never get him out of the kitchen. I checked, he ran two thousand four hundred and sixty seven iterations of his firing algorithm when we were with Cerberus. I don’t have time for him to reprogram the stove that many times…”

John laughed as the meal continued, Tali savoring the solid food and taking as much time with it as she could, John reclining on the couch and talking, enjoying her company and the lack of business. Their conversation meandered from Garrus’ lack of culinary skill to what little crew drama the ship-that-was-supposed-to-save-the-galaxy had on board it, and everyting in between. They laughed, they joked, they sparred, and they enjoyed their little slice of peace outside the horror, the gravity and enormity of the war they faced down every day. They were each other’s port in the storm, they were the slice of heaven amongst the hell of a burning universe. Neither would ever shy from the fight, not for their own lives nor sanity, but they would both take a stand against the madness in each other. Their dinners, originally just a fun idea which neither honestly expected to last, had since evolved into a stubborn protest against the encroachment of the war into every life and living moment, its imbuement of despair and hopelessness and fear into the hearts and minds of the galaxy. It was small in action, perhaps even in effect, but that small protest, not to stop the fire but to see through the smoke, was invaluable.

Eventually Tali’s plate emptied, and John piled them all together, walking over the closet and getting a new shirt, a cup of coffee brewing on the table as he prepared for another eight hours of work. _What’s the phrase, no rest for the wicked?_ As he did so, he looked over his shoulder, Tali resuming her seat at his desk.

“So, Tal, how go the preparations for the citadel?”

Her frustrated sigh was all the response he needed to know how well they went, the ensuing explanation just details to fill out the framework.

“Well, I’ve got an infighting set of admirals, a fleet that can’t look past Rannoch far enough to realize we have to win this war to ever enjoy it, and an infuriating Hierarchy. So good. Really good.”

John finished the straps on his center-plates, picking up his coffee as he walked over, standing behind her and scanning the myriad of datapads that were scattered around the terminal.

“Infuriating Hierarchy?” He sipped his coffee, trying to find reference to any familiar names in the text in front, standing behind Tali as she turned around, leaning her elbow on the desk and resting her head in her hand.

“Yes. It’s nothing they’re doing. They’ve just go so much beuarocracy, I have to go through three different representatives to get the form that is the application for the appeal for the other five representatives for my solution to their colony problems to be considered.”

Another sip of coffee.

“Do you think spectre authorization would help?”

Tali scrunched her eyebrows together, and expression which John was still ecstatic he could see without her visor, before she looked back at him.

“Yeah, actually, that would get me past all the red-tape.”

“Done.”

“John, I can’t ask you to do that…”

John levelled Tali with _that_ look, raising his left eyebrow and essentially silencing her as she got the full force of the “I’m Commander Shepard and I said I’ll do something for you. So consider it done.” Look.

“Fine. But what about you? It can’t be easy for you.”

John laughed, slightly bitterly, mostly exasperatedly, placing his hand on his hip as he kept his coffee at about chest-height.

“Well, I’ve got three Turian officials who don’t understand why they have to report to Hackett, a volus refusing to sell his weapons at anything less than triple pre-war value, and a Salarian ambassador who doesn’t understand that we can’t rescue everybody at once. So, I suppose, like you said: good.”

“I think I know that Salarian ambassador, let me talk to him, I’ll see what I can do.”

John shook his head, pursing his lips.

“No, Tali, you’ve got enough to worry about, I can’t let you do that.”

This time, John received _that_ look. Not even the “I have a shotgun” look, but rather the “You may be Commander Shepard, but I am Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy and you will not win this.” Look. The two stared each other down for a few minutes, before John shook his head, laughing.

“Alright, fine. I appreciate it.”

Tali smiled smugly at him, before replying in an overly polite voice.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Alright, I’ve got to get down to the War Room, I have an appointment with Boyd.”

As Shepard turned to leave, he found his way blocked by Tali, who quickly reached her hands up and brought his face to hers, his lips to hers, kissing him quickly but with no lack of passion nor enthusiasm. As she let go, she turned back to her seat, saying simply “I like not wearing my visor.” Before winking and returning to her terminal, leaving a yet-recovering Shepard walking out of the stateroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. For those of you who aren’t following me on Tumblr (You should, btw: http://strainofthestress.tumblr.com/ I share lots of good ME stuff, as well as put all my fics there and such (hooray shameless self promotion! (and imbedded parentheses))), I was on vacation for the past week and didn’t have access to my computer, so that’s why nothing came through. Either way, here’s my penance. I tried taking another crack at the explanation of what Kirrahe’s data means, since I wasn’t certain how well I did on that last chapter. I also tried writing some EDIxJoker fluff, Joker is a little hard for me to get character wise, doesn’t sit as well or naturally when I write him, so I hope that turned out alright. And as always, TalixShepard fluff, for days. I realize this makes two fluff chapters in a row, but I really don’t care, they were fun to write. And hopefully fun to read. As always, let me know what you think, send me any suggestions you have, and just generic feedback is greatly appreciated!  
> Enjoy!  
> SotS


	13. Shore Leave Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and The Normandy begin their shore leave on the Citadel

Normandy CIC, 1105 Hours, In port at Citadel

Traynor tried to focus on finishing backing up her data as she stood at her terminal, her brow furrowed mildly out of concentration but her mind constantly drifting to the massive space station right next door. They had been granted twenty four hours leave for their time on the station, a tiny amount of decompression time which, for however minuscule it was, was a welcome break in the midst of the largest war ever to befall galactic civilization. The entire crew had been abuzz about it since the order had come down to their omnitools from Lieutenant Tranning, adventures planned as though those twenty four hours were the last opportunity for fun the crew was going to have for the rest of their lives. _Well, it might be..._

Samantha shook her head as she refocused on her terminal, inputting a few last-commands and watching the progress bar on the yellow screen make its way to completion before she heard the elevator open behind her, seeing Liara step out, buried entirely in a datapad on her hand, despite the four others that she was carrying. Liara made her way around the port-side of the CIC terminal group, narrowly avoiding a collision with another crewmember as she seemed to mutter to herself, advancing the datapad , eyes skittering left and right over the new batch of information that was displayed.

Samantha tracked Liara’s progress around the CIC, smiling as she thought about the friendship she and the Asari had been developing recently, the conversations over cups of hot tea, Liara explaining some of the new developments on the Crucible project to her, she reciprocating by laying bare the concepts behind the galaxy map interface and secrets of QEC communication. Liara could be unnervingly stoic at times, not keen on emotional outbursts or as friendly as other members of the crew, but when engaged Samantha found there was a deeply buried though no less potent passion for her work underneath  the veneer, an energy which drove her to keep the galaxy moving forwards, and even a child-like excitement at some of the discoveries working on the Crucible had brought (though such excitement was often mixed with a little annoyance when she finished speaking with Javik).

As if woken from a trance, Traynor realized that she had been gawking – _staring, really, but there’s no need to call it that -_  as Liara walked towards the airlock, and brought her head back down to her terminal, pretending to work while her mind tried to sort itself out. _Those can’t be butterflies in my stomach, why would I get butterflies from seeing a friend? I wouldn’t, I’m not. It’s just… nerves, about the war effort. Yeah, so many things going on and one mis-step could cause such a disaster… Definitely nerves._

And then, floating from the back of her mind like a single, powerful leaf, a thought settled in that silenced the rest, and certainly did not cause more butterflies in her stomach.

_You were going to ask her to lunch._

Traynors’ hands stopped as the thought occurred to her, and she visibly shook her head a little bit, trying to clear the invasive little thought, the worm which had silenced everything else and was somehow dominating her thought process, but to no avail. She ran through the small meditation drills her mother had taught her, as she could feel her temperature rise and something that was most certainly not a blush come up from underneath her cheeks, but again – nothing helped. Her mind continued to race, disjointed thoughts chorusing in from every corner of her brain.

_You were, weren’t you?_

_No, no, she’s much to busy, besides, I don’t even have anything to talk about. But I’d really like to, I had so much fun last time I talked with her._

_But that was QEC, like you said, you have nothing to talk about._

_Well, can’t we just talk?_

_I mean, we’re friends aren’t we?_

_If you’re friends, then why do you have butterflies in your stomach? Hm? Why are you blushing?_

_It’s… hot in here, the coolant tubes run directly over my work station and these alliance uniforms have terrible ventilation._

_Come on, just ask her, it will be fun._

_But what if she says no?_

_That’d be embarrassing._

_Worse, it’d be mortifying._

_But if she says yes?_

_Oh hell, that might be even more mortifying. You really want to, though, don’t you?_

_… Yes._

_Well, then do it. You might be dead for all you know tomorrow._

Traynor looked up from her workstation, turning to the left and following as close to a walk as she could, no matter how much the little voice in her head tried to will her legs to run, after Liara. Her confidence built with every step as she made her way down the CIC, through the forward neck of the ship, and all the way to the airlock before Liara was within airshot, standing on the jet-way down from the ship to the dock. Traynor called out to her, perhaps a bit aggressively, her tone sounding more appropriate to dress down an incompetent technician than call out to a friend. Definitely just a friend.

“Liara!”

Liara stopped, looked up from her datapad before looking to her left, then her right, hastily spinning to her left in an awkward 270 degree circle that was so unbecoming her usual composure and grace. When she found Traynor, her eyes lit up for a second – or maybe Traynor imagined it, she couldn’t tell, and she’d deny that she ever wished she wasn’t imagining it – before the one of Traynor’s voice registered with her and her face fell immediately into the concern it wore too often and too naturally.

Samantha watched the display, almost giggling at the ungraceful spin around to find her as well as the slight shift of Liara’s eyes to the side when she realized something might be wrong, the display so very… well, Liara.

“Liara… I was wondering if…”

Samantha stopped dead in her tracks like a shuttle running to a wall. All the confidence she had built up as she strode down the CIC had evaporated. _And so quickly too, I was feeling so good. Well, come on Sam, just get it out. Nothing wrong with asking a FRIEND to lunch._ The words spilled out of Traynor’s mouth, multiple attempts trying to come out at once as Liara watched, eventually smiling slightly and raising an eyebrow at Traynor’s display.

“Well, if you’d like… I mean, if you’re not busy….Maybe you’d like too… Well, not maybe, but if you’d like too… I heard about this great place… Join me… lunch?”

_Fantastic job, Sam, really. Just a stellar delivery right there. A performance worthy of a communications specialist. Alright, collect your thoughts and get it all out, one go, one sentence. Three… Two… One… Send_

“Liara, would you like to have lunch with me?”

The words hung as Traynor hurled them out of her mouth  like a mortar might a shell, hanging in mid-air as both women looked at each-other, mildly surprised at the bluntness with which Traynor spoke after her previous spout of words, before  the question hit home. Liara’s eyes widened as she comprehended the question and her mouth opened slightly, closing it again, her eyes beginning to dart slightly side to side before meeting Traynor’s, and seeing something that almost looked like pleading. She looked down at the datapad she was holding, tapping it a few times with her thumb before  placing it with the others under her arm, bringing her hand up to the micro-com she was wearing, and speaking into it.

“Glyph, please cancel all my apointments for the next… hour and a half?” she looked at Traynor, who’s face broke into an awkward smile and nodded slightly, almost tentatively.

“Yes, Doctor T’Soni.”

Liara smiled as she looked Samantha squarely in the eyes, her voice confident as she held a hand out to indicate for Traynor to lead.

“Yes, Samantha, I would like that.”

As she and Samantha made their way off the jet-way down to the docks, Liara’s mind was racing. The butterflies in Traynor’s stomach were not hers alone, and the questions racing through her mind were all the more potent in Liara’s mind. But there was one thought which seemed to burn through both women’s heads:

_Why am I blushing? Friends don’t blush for friends._

Presidium Commons, Apollo’s Café – 1400 Hours

Shepard sat and fumed over his lunch as he stared out across the Presidium, watching particularly intently a work crew repairing some of the residual damage from Cerberus’ coup attempt. The sandwich was interesting, some Asari flavor which couldn’t be likened to anything else he had ever tasted, and were he in a slightly better disposition, he was sure he would be enjoying it. Unfortunately,  as the glower in his eyes and aggressive hunch in his back told everybody around (including the extremely wary waiter), he was not in such a disposition.

He had stormed in after talking to the Asari counselor, ordering viciously from the kiosk and finding a seat amongst a three meter radius he had carried around him as he came from the embassies, the atmosphere of pure frustration he held around him enough to keep most other occupants away. He had maintained the pretense of working for about ten minutes, glowering at a datapad as words scrolled in front of him before he gave up, placing it down and staring out at the presidium in front of him, tying to let the light breeze carry his frustration and consummate anger away. Needless to say, it wasn’t working terribly well.

Movement across the table caught his eye and he turned to watch Tali take a seat across from him, setting a healthy pile of datapads down on the table next to her, speaking with a tired, though no less chipper voice.

“Shepard, how’d the meeting with the Councilor go?”

The glower she got in return would cause most people to either melt in their chair or slink away, the intensity of his green eyes immense in magnitude, threatening to burn a hole through just about everything they turned to. Instead, Tali just laughed a little as she leaned back, catching the waiter’s eye from across the deck and beckoning him over.

“That well, huh?”

Shepard’s voice was no less menacing than his stare, low and growling, aggressive in every sense.

“You have no idea.”

“What happened?”

“I’d rather not say here…” Shepard gestured to their incredibly open setting with far too many ears to hear. He was rather surprised that the councilor even chose to tell him in the open rather than the spectre offices directly across the hall, though with what ease Kasumi found her way in, he wondered how secure they really were. He continued.

“But let’s just say it baffles me how hard the concept of  ‘The galaxy is burning, let’s all work together to save our collective asses’ seems to be for some of these races.”

Tali laughed at Shepard’s impersonation of the council races, very close to a voice she had heard Joker use once while telling his terrible joke about the rachni wars. Shepard, in return, shook his head while he sneered angrily, strangling his glass as he picked it up, savagely drinking from it and slamming it on the ground with such force that it not only bent the bottom, but caused the waiter who was coming with Tali’s order jump noticeably. As the drink was set down in front of her she nodded and tried to give a conciliatory smile, but knew that, for however bad she felt for him having to deal with an angry Commander Shepard, it was lost behind her mask. After a few breaths Shepard continued, the frustration palpable.

“Honestly, Tal, I don’t know what it is about these people that they don’t grasp the fact that this war is bigger than any of us. Suffice it to say the Councilor gave me some information which would have helped us about three months ago, but she chooses now to do so because the giant death-machines have finally gotten around to exterminating her planet. But _apparently_ it was too special for anybody else to hear it while _their_ races are being systematically wiped out. Seriously?! If they had half as much intelligence as they do stubbornness, this war would probably already be over.”

Tali sat back, listening calmly while John spun himself out, taking a sip from her drink and nodding as he went on, a few choice expletives thrown in for good measure, along with some rather graphic descriptions of actions and hand gestures. She had seen this before, mostly out of frustration at The Illusive Man (a frustration which had, with Cerberus’ involvement in the war quickly turned to a lethal loathing that, if history had anything to say about it, would lead to the Cerberus leaders’ utter destruction), and knew the pattern: He’d hold his composure, maybe be a bit turse, with other people, and then either alone or with her he would vent in some way until he had spun himself out of energy and then he would be bitter for about five minutes, before returning back to his typical, more practical self.

“I just… ugh.” John’s frustrated groan came as he set his drink down for the last time, the waiter quickly, fearfully skittering in to pick it up and get a refill, practically scampering off to the bar. John’s elbow made contact with the table jarringly, his forehead resting in his upturned palm as he closed his eyes gently and shook his head slightly back and forth, eventually wiping his right eye as he sat up, slouching slightly in the chair and resting his hand in his lap. The hot fire of passionate frustration was gone from his eyes, instead a deep hurt taking its place, the energy spent from his small outburst.

“You were waiting for me to run out of steam, weren’t you?”

Tali smirked slightly insider her helmet as she took another sip from her drink, her voice taking on a sing-song quality as she responded, her intonation dipping in feigned innocence.

“Maybe… maybe not…”

John laughed slightly as the waiter came with another drink, some sort of human drink, brown with… bubbles, in it. John looked up and thanked the Turian waiter, causing his mandibles to flair slightly in shock and his facial plates to relax slightly, a small “you’re welcome, sir” squeeked out before he turned to go wait back at the edge of the deck, watching his tables.

“I don’t mind, I kind of was too. I just… don’t get what’s so hard for them to understand. Is it something I’ve done? Have I not told  them enough for them to realize that they need to work together to even survive?”

Tali laughed, setting her drink down on the table and reaching out to slightly rub John’s hand before leaning back, crossing her legs as she answered, slightly jokingly towards the end.

“No, Shepard, I think you’ve said as much as you can. They’re just being exceptionally selfish and self-centered because they don’t want to believe something like this could happen. Besides, if you didn’t say enough, one would imagine the giant death-lasers would for any sane person.”

John laughed slightly, one or two heaving chuckles before he sat back, watching the work crew again. The two sat there for about two or three minutes, before John laughed again, heartily, realistically this time, the few chuckles quickly turning into a mild laughing fit, which soon had Tali laughing herself with the absurdity of the transition (which did nothing to redact how predictable it had been). John spoke, eventually calming himself enough to do so, his voice much more jocular, much closer to the John Shepard she normally interacted with.

“Giant death-lasers… that’s good. Anyways, how’d your meetings go? They were with… whom, again?”

“Alliance and Turian military commanders, we’re coordinating fleet movements to protect the… package, when it finally gets moved. Because of our time as the Flotilla, the Quarian Navy has some of the best protection and escort protocols, we’ve just always lacked the hardware to make them more effective. So I was working with the Turians and Alliance to fit their ship schemes in, improve our chances.”

“That sounds interesting, if not hard. How stubborn were they?”

“Very receptive, especially after I showed them how much more effective our strategies are. Plus, I outrank both of them and the recent “Rank equivalence treaty” meant they were obligated to treat me as such. Rank does have its privileges.”

Shepard laughed, taking another drunk and finishing his sandwich, making eye contact with the waiter before offering the plate, another “thank-you” causing the waiter to ease up slightly, the tension that angry-Shepard had built starting to dissipate, slowly.

“It certainly does. I didn’t know you were so versed in tactics though, Tal.”

Tali smiled and laughed, before putting her right elbow on the table and placing the “chin” of her mask in her palm, shaking her head slightly as she spoke in a slightly mocking voice.

“You didn’t think they made me an admiral just for my looks, now did you?”

“Well…”

Tali chirped an easily laugh before sitting back, shaking her head slightly before taking another drink.

“No, I did actually have to go to command school, spent about 5 months learning how to command fleets and the conventional tactics of most every major citadel race. We don’t just hand out the title ‘Admiral’ for nothing.”

“I know, you just made it sound like it was mostly for your experience with the Geth.”

“And you make it sound like you became a Spectre because you’re willing to help a child down some stairs.”

“Good point.”

They leaned back, looking out across the Presidium before Shepard spoke again, not looking at Tali as he did so, his tone lower, more business-like.

“So, did I tell you the order I got from Hackett?”

Tali turned to look at him, slightly concerned knowing what past “orders” from Hackett meant.

“No, what is it this time? Don’t tell me…” she sat up straight, putting her hands on her hips as she made a laughable impersonation of Hackett’s brusque voice, causing Shepard to smile and chuckle “Shepard, if you could rescue a science team who is stranded on a mining station by Cerberus in the Artemis Tau cluster, I’d appreciate it.”

Shepard laughed again, remembering how arbitrary some of the infamous “Hackett rescue” missions seemed to be.

“No, actually. Normandy’s down for retro-fits, we’re to take a full week of shore-leave.”

Tali was silenced immediately, cocking her head slightly as she looked at Shepard, her mouth left slightly open with mild disbelief.

“You mean…”

“Yeah, we’re grounded. Alliance command already arranged for housing for all of the crew, and I got a mysterious email from Anderson about an apartment not too far from here.”

“So we’re staying here, for a week, while our ship is worked on?”

“That’s the case.”

“Does that interfere with any of our leads?”

“Shepard shook his head slightly as he stood up, Tali doing the same and the two walking towards the elevator, close but not holding hands, both agreeing to avoid the publicity of such a gesture.

“No, actually, this is good. Our next lead is on Thessia, and from what the Councilor told me, it will take about a week for communication channels to alert them of our arrival, apparently their entire infrastructure has just gone down in flames.”

Tali cocked her head as she considered it, one half of her brain concocting plans and meetings and negotiations she could complete in a week’s concentrated time on the Citadel, the other running various images of her and John enjoying a week of no-work on the station.

“Well… alright.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“You have to promise me one thing, though.”

John looked at her as they neared the elevator, stopping and moving to the side.

“What’s that?”

“Take me to that sushi place… what’s it called… Ryuusei?”

“Do they even have food you can eat there, Tali?”

At that moment Tali’s omni-tool went off and Shepard heard a few curses under her breath before she took off running, shouting behind her “Talk to you later, John!”

Holding Area, 2100 Hours

Joker sat on the benches in front of the wall, the photograph blowing gently in the mild breeze that blew through the area. The paper was different than the others, not printed or fabricated, a real polaroid photograph taken by his father with an antique camera that had been in his family for generations, a yearly tradition, this one the most recent. His father, sister, and mother stood in front of their house, Hilary sporting a new school jacket and his parents beaming, the caption underneath saying “First Day of School, 2187”

As he looked at it, Jeff’s eyes filled slowly with tears, his chest constricting as he remembered the message, the fatefully short communication which he had read so readily and casually at his station, which had such words as “unfortunately” and “sorry” which did no justice to the hole he felt inside, to the emptiness and void which became his heart and soul, the tunnel vision which took away everything but the word “killed”, the empty chill in his body. He bowed his head, breathing deeply, slowly, doing everything he could not to break down here, anywhere but here, anywhere but in public.

He felt rather than heard or saw somebody sit down next to him, not even turning to see who it is. He was technically out of regs, walking around during war time in civilian clothing. But he didn’t care. He needed the shield, needed the protection of anonymity against all the insipid sympathy, the I’m-sorry’s and that-must-be-terrible’s which were always so insecure, so empty. Listening to them, to the fake care of the people who couldn’t have less, was almost as painful. He didn’t look at the person next to him, but at the very least felt comfortable that they did not know who he was. Until they spoke.

“Jeff…”

Joker closed his eyes and bowed his head, looking slowly to his left to see EDI sitting there, her face contorted in what only he could recognize as concern, subtle in its execution but no less present, having donned full clothes including a hooded sweatshirt, appearing almost human in the outfit.

“Jeff… are you… okay?”

The resentment, the anger, the fear of ridicule and laughter all flared up inside him at once as he felt his heart begin to crack, the tears drying up with angry heat as he responded, the frustration he felt with the rest of the universe being directed at this one… woman, whose face changed immediately to confused hurt as she sat and listened, absorbing the words.

“Yes, EDI, I’m doing great. As I sit here, with a photograph of my _dead family_ in front of the _mourning wall_. You know, just peachy, never better. How could I be? Especially with this _galactic war_! It’s just great, honestly. Love it. Everything about it. The death, the suffering, the pain, it’s just awesome. Really. All of it.”

As EDI sat there, she watched the tears which had developed on Jeff’s eyes bleed over, tears beginning to stream down his face, splashing on the floor beneath him as he let his head fall again, the lean towards her he had developed during his outburst causing him to have to put his hand down to catch himself on the bench, chest beginning to heave gently as she heard his soft cries, noises and pleadings and prayers caught in his throat, escaping only as gasps of breath and small whines against the pain and suffering and loss which surrounded this place, surrounded them. She leaned forwards, putting her arms around him, bringing his head into her shoulder as he continued to sob, placing her hand on the back of his head as she felt the moisture of his tears bleed through the sweatshirt. She held him like that, rocking back and forth as the pain coursed through him, concentrating in his tears and running down his face as his grief flooded out all at once, so many months keeping so quiet happening all at once. When he finally did speak, his voice was raw, high-pitched, as brittle as his heart felt as he felt the emptiness in his heart and the stolen promise of so many years of conversations and graduations and weddings and family gatherings and holidays and even just I-love-you’s.

“Dammit… Dammit, EDI. Why’d they have to go? Them? Of all people… My sister, she is… was, the nicest person ever. She used to apologize to the table whenever she would run into it, and my dad? He was just as gentle. They didn’t deserve it, EDI. Not them. Not this. They should have been the ones to get out. Should have survived. I should be the one going on that wall, not them. I’m the one who volunteered, who put on the uniform. If we can’t keep them safe, then what the hell are we doing this for? Aren’t they who we’re fighting for? Aren’t they supposed to survive? Huh? Why did it have to be them… Dammit.”

Again Jeff fell back into aggrieved sobs as EDI rocked him gently, the other people present holding their distance at the scene that was all too familiar and too often occurring, respectfully staying silent and nodding slightly if they thought they caught EDI’s eye, often a glimmer of grief in their own as they saw themselves weeks, months, hours ago.

Eventually Joker pulled himself up, sniffling and drying his eyes with the sleeve of his own sweatshirt, blinking hard many times to try and clear his eyes, standing up precariously as EDI took his hand, holding it and his arm shortly above the elbow. He began to walk towards the wall, a staggering step at first that soon turned into a strong stride, a direct march to the wall where his hand reached up, placing the photo on an empty spot, one of the few, the photo making contact with the static-adhesive wall and staying here as Joker pulled his hand away momentarily, bowing his head and closing his eyes. Silent tears ran down his cheeks as he replaced his hand on the photo, his hand sprawled over all of them, flattened as though touching it, an old photo from an antique machine, a piece of paper that carried but the vestiges of rich and beloved characters, people with such futures and hopes and dreams as could never be put to words nor summarized in a single photograph, might somehow bring them back, might connect him beyond the great rift of life and death to see them again, just hear one word from them before he left.

His voice cracked as he spoke, his upper lip trembling as he spoke, his face scrunched as he struggled not to break-down again.

“Goodbye, mom, dad, Hilary. I’ll… I’m gonna miss you guys. I hope the weather is nice… wherever you are, I know dad always hated those rainy days. But, I’ll see you… later… someday. I’ll miss you, though. So much. I already do. So… goodbye.”

As he turned away he clenched his eyes shut and let EDI guide him back to the bench, his breaths deep as he tried to control the tightness in his chest and lump in his throat that seem to have become permanent residences since he arrived, since he first pulled the photo from his jacket pocket and looked at it. Softly, EDI began to speak.

“Never has there been a suffering so great as of they who are left behind by the dead, who are left to stand at the banks and wave across the tides of the unknown sea to the shadows and memories of ones who once stood beside as they traverse to the misty black fog of a future we can never know. It is the true pain of helplessness, seeded in the resentment of inaction or the binding laws of proximity, sowed by the inexorable movement of time and permanence of progression. There can be no healing words, no salve of scripture nor script which can help these wounds once incurred, only solidity of friendship and bonds of love, reminders of what future these shores might still carry and the companions with which they might be had. Indeed, pity not the dead, for they are gone. Pity the living, as they endure their passing.”

As EDI finished, Joker looked up at her, a miniscule smile appearing beneath the stream of tears which had made its way down his face, his brow furrowed now with the slightest bit of confusion in the midst of all the pain.

“Who was that, Eeds?”

EDI’s voice was slightly louder now, but softer, perhaps only to Joker’s trained ears.

“A twenty second century writer, upon the death of his mother. I could not find the words to help you, Jeff, I have not experienced loss as this and can offer no appropriate sentiments of sorrow or sympathy, I am sorry. I thought it appropriate to find a quote which would properly express my… feelings, at this moment, since I could not find the right words myself. If you would rather, I could find a different quote or maintain a respectful silence.”

Joker smiled, softly, still sadly but with love, leaned over, kissing EDI gently on the shoulder just as he had seen his father do with his mother, his eyes shining with tears as he looked at EDI, speaking softly.

“No, EDI, it was perfect.”

EDI smiled at Joker, a full smile as he had not seen from her, and moved in, gently touching her lips to his in an unfamiliar action to her, but one she had since learned was very important to humans, the contact ever so soft and gentle but all the more potent for it. As she pulled away, she saw more tears from Jeff but could not read his expression, it seeming a mix of the grief he had just expressed and sadness and happiness and love. She stood, gently, Joker following suit and taking her hand as the two turned to walk towards the elevator, both keeping their heads slightly bowed to avoid detection, making Jeff’s crippled shuffle seeming simply a slow saunter with EDI’s assistance. EDI spoke first, softly.

“Jeff, I am aware it is a human tradition to… toast, the recently deceased, among friends. Would you like for me to assemble your friends in an appropriate spot so that we may do so?”

“No, Eeds, just you.”

“Very well. There is a location on Tayserei Ward which is known for its view of the Nebula as well as its moderate seclusion.”

“Perfect.”

The two continued to walk to the elevator, EDI using one of her hands to input their destination. As the elevator started moving at its excruciatingly slow speed, EDI turned to Jeff, looking softly in her eyes as she said one of the few things she could think of to help him.

“I’m sure your family would be proud if they saw you, Jeff.”

Jeff laughed softly as his eyes once again became glossy, looking up at EDI.

“YOu know, the last thing my Dad and Sister said to me before I lost contact?” EDI shook her head. “It was as we were flying to Mars, I called them up to find out how they were. Before we had to cut the channel, my dad just said ‘Jeff, I’m so proud of you, so proud. Go save the galaxy, we’ll be here. I, we, love you.’ Not many were that lucky.”

“I wish you would tell me about them, Jeff.”

“Eeds, I know you. Can’t you just… like, download their files or something?”

“I want to hear it from you, Jeff.”

Silence permeated the elevator as it approached their level, shortly before Jeff turning to EDI, speaking earnestly, his voice heavy with love and thankfulness.

“Thank-you, EDI. I… I really appreciate it.”

“I love you, Jeff.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that last scene got a little… heavy. Well, tragic actually. First scene I’ve teared up while writing… but that might have been Adagio for Strings I was writing it to (I recommend reading it with that in the background, by the way, was what the majority of the scene was designed with. I’ve got music for just about every scene in my chapters, I can tell you guys the songs if you like, might enhance the experience? (I don’t know, it does for me writing)).  
> I’m really trying to build this Liara and Traynor relationship well, it’s an idea which I sort of came up with on a whim about two months ago, but I’ve become increasingly fond of the concept and really want to happen now. Hopefully it’s coming out as natural, I’m trying not to just put them in the same room one scene and have them eating each other’s faces the next, I expect they’ll progress monumentally during this shore leave.   
> As always, please tell me what you think: I love getting feedback, it helps me write, and would love ideas as to what to put in. So let me know what you think.   
> But above all else, enjoy!  
> SotS


	14. Shore Leave Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Shore Leave on the Citadel Begins, Tali comes to visit John in his new apartment and Liara invites Traynor over to her hotel room.

Shepard’s Apartment, 2000 Hours

“John?”

Tali poked her head in through the open door, looking first to the left then the right for any signs of John, hearing nothing nor getting any answer. The rest of her body followed her head through the door as she walked, slightly timidly, into the apartment, shutting down the datapad she had in her hands as she kept walking forwards, swiveling her head all around as she admired the tastefully furnished apartment.

_Keelah, this is one apartment? And John’s now? How in the name of sanity Anderson could afford an apartment like this… Alliance admirals must get paid better than I thought._

“John?”

Tali called again, having reached the bottom of the stairs across from the door, looking up to the landing above, quickly hearing a progressive series of bumps and drops, a few curses thrown in for good measure as John poked his head out from the room looking for the disturbance, propping himself up against the door jamb as he saw Tali, smiling slightly before there was another crashing sound, causing John to look back, curse under his breath and run back into the room, the display earning a few giggles from Tali. Eventually, John re-emerged, looking slightly beleaguered.

“Hey, Tal. What’s up?”

Tali looked around gesturing at the apartment as she talked, her voice joking and with a bit of awe mixed in.

“Oh, just wanted to see the… estate, you’ve set yourself up in.”

John laughed, setting something down before walking out, casually jaunting down the stairs, Tali turning to follow him as he made his way to the kitchen, pulling down two rocks glasses from a cabinet and setting them on the kitchen island. He was sporting a pair of service-pants, sans boots, and instead of service armor on his torso he appeared to be wearing only the undershirt and his old – _perhaps too old –_ N7 sweatshirt.

“Oh, yes, the over-sized apartment gifted to me by my old CO. You know, Anderson never mentioned this place? Not once. I’ve known the man, what, ten years now? You’d think I’d have learned about something like this.”

Tali laughed, nodding as John pulled out a bottle of familiar liquor, mild and slightly sweet with a small bitterness in the after-taste, one of the few drinks produced for both dextro and levo life forms. As he poured, Tali pulled out her emergency induction port, the system much simpler than the filtration input located on her wrist, but John gave her a slight scowl, shaking his head as he slid the glass over towards her, leaning his elbows against the island, taking a slight sip of his drink.

“Apartment’s sterilized, you’re good to take your mask off.”

Tali smiled internally, chuckling slightly – _I might have known he’d already taken care of it –_ before reaching up and un-sealing her mask, inhaling deeply through her nose as the covering came off and fresh air rushed at her face, the scent of the apartment slightly unfamiliar, but not unwelcome – a combination of polished metal, comfortable leather, and the slightly crisp tint of sterile air. She reached down and picked up her glass, sipping it before looking up at John and nodding, smiling as he stood up, gesturing towards the incredibly open living room, the two making their way over to the couch facing the fireplace and taking easy seats.

“Well, it’s your space now. Do you think you’ll be able to use it all?”

John laughed into his drink, taking another sip, his gaze distantly fixed on the fireplace, the images beyond and within playing in his eyes as he took his glass down, resting it in his left hand.

“Hardly. I feel guilty, having this much space when there are so many refugees down at the docks. How many do you think we could fit in here?”

“Depends on whether you’re willing to stack apartment-pods or not.”

“Clearly. It is a little oversized, isn’t it?”

Tali looked around, her eyes roaming over the upper-level landing, the vaulted ceiling, taking a sip of her glass as she looked at the fireplace wall and behind her at the huge bay-windows, eventually looking back at John.

“A little. But you know something?”

John raised an eyebrow, turning his head slightly from the fireplace towards her, the left corner of his mouth lifting in mild curiosity.

“Hm?”

“According to the galaxy, so is the man that lives here.”

John rolled his eyes, chuckling lowly as he set his glass down on the table, raising his hands in faux surrender.

“Well, who am I to argue with the galaxy?”

Tali laughed, setting her glass down and standing up, putting her hands on her hips as she threw them to the left, raising an eyebrow and lowering her glare at John, who quickly put on his “guilty puppy” look (that’s how Kaidan had described it, though, having never seen a “puppy”, Tali was uncertain what exactly that was supposed to mean).

“I don’t know, maybe Commander John Shepard?”

John’s face got incredulous as he tented his fingers over his chest in pretend offense, Tali laughing and reaching up, unfastening her entire helmet, pulling her veil down as she undid the oxygen and filter tubes in the back, the assembly breaking apart in the front, the filt-light extending forwards, a mechanical click being heard as the helmet unlocked, hinging around the port-disk in the back. She lifted it off, rubbing her gloved hand through her short-cropped hair, releasing it from the helmet-encrusted state it was perpetually locked in, sighing slightly as she felt the air around the rest of her face. She set the helmet down on the table, walking over to the kitchen, talking behind her as she went.

“Keelah, it feels good to get that thing off.”

 John set his glass down, standing up to follow her, his sock-clad feet padding softly against the floor in contrast to her still-suited clicking step.

“I can imagine. I get itchy after just eight hours in my helmet.”

Tali, having opened a cabinet, looked over her shoulder, smiling slightly at John as she did so, raising an eyebrow in goading sarcasm.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly expect those pyjak-suits you call armor to be terribly comfortable.”

John stood opposite her across the kitchen island, crossing his arms, raising his left eyebrow and throwing his hips slightly to the left, giving her a look.

“Oh, you’re insulting my suit now?”

“Just stating the truth.”

“Well, what else would you have me do? Fight naked?”

“Could be interesting…”

John shook his head, his cheeks readening slightly, Tali tittering with laughter as she continued to look through the cabinets, clearly intent on finding something.

“Looking for something Tali?”

“Well, for how much I love talking to you, I’m starving. Do you have anything to eat?”

John simply pointed to the cabinet directly in front of Tali’s knees, causing her to squat down, rifling through before pulling out a few components, setting them out on the cabinet, boxes and cans of various colors with names he could barely read, not to mention understand.. After setting all them up, Tali stood up, crossing her arms and staring at them, picking one up after about half a minute, reading it on the back. John spoke up, a thought crossing his mind.

“Tali, do you even know how to cook?”

Tali turned around, her face mildly indignant as she held a can of food, gesturing at John with it. John stood up from leaning against the counter, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow again, continuting “the look”.

“Of course I know how to cook John! I may be Quarian, but I’m not completely inept at life skills! Do you honestly think I can maintain a Eezo core like The Normandy’s, get us out of the _galactic center_ despite basically all of our systems being crashed, and not be able to cook?”

John stood there, continuting to look at Tali.

“It can’t be that hard! I mean, first you just have to open the can, then you… cut… the food, and then… apply heat.”

“Apply heat?”

Tali grinned sheepishly, setting the can of food down in front of John, hanging her head slightly.

“Alright, I don’t… exactly, know how to cook. But I’ve watched some vids.”

Chuckling, John pushed himself off of the kitchen island, walking around to Tali and giving her a hug from behind, their height difference making it very easy for him to look down and plant a kiss on the top of her head as she leaned back into his gesture, resting her arms on his as they wrapped around her abdomen. She smiled slightly as she felt the mild rumble of his voice come through his chest into her back as he spoke.

“Well, I may not know how to cook dextro, but I’ve been told I’m pretty decent with Levo. You wanna see what we can do?”

Tali turned around, hooking her arms on his shoulders and hooking her hands behind his head, smiling as she reached up and kissed him shortly on the lips, pulling away and smiling at him as he returned the gesture.

“Sounds like a deal, _Commander_.”

“You’re the one eating it, sounds like you’re in charge here, _Admiral._ ”

“Alright, let’s see what we can find.”

The two broke apart and leaned, side-by-side, against the central island, Tali’s omnitool up as she scrolled through the recipes she had acquired during her searches. Once they decided on one, Tali and John went to work, identifying the ingredients, measuring out carefully and searching for substitutes for Turian cooking methods in a human kitchen. Though it was an entirely foreign environment, John and Tali found themselves falling into a familiar rhythym, thoughts and requests still anticipated as they worked back-to-back, John taking care of the cutting and preparation while Tali worked on the stove. Like a perfectly timed clock, they handed ingredients, bowls, utensils, and quips back and forth with practiced ease, their compatibility clearly not just relegated to the battlefield.

Silversun Hotel, Room 3215, 2100 Hours

“Liara, you called?”

Traynor poked her head through the open-door, looking around the foyer of the room as she tentatively walked in, answering the message she had received a few minutes ago from Liara, From farther inside the room, Traynor heard a reply, muffled by the distance and sounding strangely excited for Liara, the Asari not typically known for her emotional outburst.

“Traynor! Yes! Please, come in here!”

Traynor walked forwards, her softer slippers padding across the plush carpet as she walked into the room. While the Alliance typically furnished rooms for their crews on shore leave, it was typically in a cheap apartment, colloquially called “The Alliance Stables”, when not in barracks. This time, however, Hackett had apparently received an influx of credits purportedly taken from Cerberus, the source of which Traynor suspected was an infamous information broker.

Thus the hotel that they had been furnished in was one of the higher-end business hotels on the station, still not incredible luxury, but certainly better than the sheets-as-thin-as-tissues accomodations most Alliance sailors and marines had come to expect. Traynor padded over the thick carpet, past the entrance-hallway and closet to a small kitchenette, beyond which was a small living room with a surprisingly expansive view of the Citadel. To her rright was a small hallway which led to a bedroom, inside of which could be seen a Queen bed and a small suit-case, open but empty. In the living room, she found Liara, lounging on one of the couches, lying with her feet propped up on the hassock, flicking through something on her omnitool. Unlike her typical outfit, Liara was now sporting what appeared to be a pair of white lounge pants with a light green V-neck shirt, both seeming to be made out of the same slightly iridescent material. The image presented was in stark contrast to the typical, professional, cool Asari that Traynor usually saw that she paused slightly as she saw her, staring for a second before regaining her composure and walking forwards.

“Liara, you called?”

Liara smiled, slightly, almost sheepishly, sending something that could have been described as butterflies flying in the base of Samantha’s stomach, though she denied it ardently, and sat up, closing her omnitool. Her voice sounded mildly concerned, but significantly less stressed than Traynor had usually heard it, the tension which had been so omnipresent on board the Normandy evaporated, causing Traynor to smile as she listened.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Oh, no, not at all Liara. I was just reading a book I’ve been meaning to for a while, I was getting a little bored, honestly.”

Liara smiled as she heard, gesturing to the couch next to her, Traynor taking a seat and falling Liara’s lead as the Asari relaxed, leaning back into the arm of the couch closest to the windows, smiling at Traynor as she too put her feet on the hassock and draped her arms across the couch. Due to wartime regulations, she was still in her service uniform, but had foregone her combat boots in favor of her slippers, left her shoulder pads off, and left her shirt only partially fastened. It was technically out of regulations, but a common look for service members in their own residences on shore leave.

Liara spoke, her smile faltering slightly as her voice contorted slightly into a mild nervous grimace, the butterflies in her stomach erupting into what any Asari would recognize as a purple blush on her cheeks, but she hoped Traynor wouldn’t pick up on, though she still had herself convinced she didn’t know why she was blushing, or why her stomach felt like it was doing summersaults every time she caught Traynor’s smile.

“I’m glad… well, not glad you were bored… but rather that I wasn’t interrupting anything. I was wondering if you’d… well, I’ve found a… I’m… Goddess, I’m making an idiot of myself aren’t I?”

Traynor laughed, endeared slightly by the blush she could see deepening around Liara’s cheeks and the nervous darts of her eyes around that had appeared as her statement had disintegrated. She smiled warmly at Liara, who had since stopped talking and had bowed her head, looking at Traynor with what seemed to be a mild pleading, hope that she wasn’t making as much an idiot of herself as she seemed to think she was.

“Join the club, Liara. I’ve been making an idiot of myself since I stepped on the Normandy. Do you know what I said to EDI before I knew she was an AI?”

Liara laughed slightly and went to open her mouth before Traynor cut her off, grimacing slightly and waving her hand at Liara as she remembered the reputation of the woman she was speaking to.

“Don’t answer that, you probably have it recorded. Either way, so embarrassing.”

“I can imagine, Samantha…”

“Please, just Sam.”

Liara smiled and nodded her head, before adding.

“In that case, my closer friends just call me Li.”

Inside, the voice that was still convinced it didn’t know why she was blushing nor why her heart was beating faster spoke up:

_No, Liara, none of your friends call you that._

Traynor, blissfully, seemed to be unaware of the internal dialogue.

“Alright, Li. That’s… odd, but it fits. At least like this. Well, I mean, not to say it doesn’t fit other times, but when you’re… lounging? Damn, now I’m the one with my foot in my mouth.”

Liara giggled, slightly – _very slightly. Very, very slightly. And certainly not because Traynor is cute like this –_ as she raised an eyebrow at the expression, Traynor soon seeing and laughing slightly as she picked her face up from the palm she had very sturdily set it in.

“Old human saying, basically meaning you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“Ah. Well, don’t worry, Sam might take me a while to get accustomed to as well.”

“So we can both make idiots of ourselves. Great. Anyways, was there something you wanted to ask me?”

Liara nodded, took a deep breath before gathering what felt like all of her courage to speak, forcing the statement out with deliberate, precise, and planned precision, nodding slowly every few words as she heard them successfully leave her mouth.

“Samantha… Sam, I was wondering… if you would… like to… watch a vid… tonight.” She paused, slightly, before realizing she had missed a critical part. “With me.”

Inside Liara’s head, the voice was speaking up again, seeming to laugh, before Liara silenced it as best she could:

_Goddess, you had more trouble with that than you did dispatching Cerberus on Mars, didn’t you?_

Traynor smiled, uncharacteristically large, feeling her heart pick up its pace as she heard the request.

_Sam, come on. She’s just asking you as a friend. I know you’re having more and more trouble denying why you’re getting so… nervous, titillated really, but this is just a friend’s request. Nothing more. Calm yourself._

“Liara… Li, that sounds fantastic. What did you have in mind.”

Liara’s blush deepened as she brought up her omnitool, selecting the film and streaming it to the view screen that was mounted on the wall across from them, while the voice inside her head yelled and banged against the mental cage she had tried to silence it with:

_Liara? Liara! No, no, we swore we would never tell anybody. You’re the Shadow Broker, a published and respected Archaeologist who was right despite the criticism of her peers! You’re over a hundred now! Nodody needs to know, nobody should know you still watch these kinds of movies!_

Traynor looked to the screen, seeing the title that had been brought up, and laughing slightly as she turned her body, facing the television now, but ending up a few inches closer to Liara, noticeably to both herself and the Asari, though they both were pretending, ardently, valiantly, that this lack of distance wasn’t the point of focus for both of their minds.

“Li, really? Blasto IV?”

Liara, blushed, sheepishly, looking at Traynor’s grinning face before back down at her own hands which were laid out in her lap.

“I admit, I have a slight propensity for children’s movies. Even still. If you’d rather watch something more… mature, I won’t mind.”

Traynor laughed, smiling at Liara again as she looked at her, certainly not admiring how adorable the sheepish grin like a child with their hand found stuck in the cookie jar was – _and certainly not how adorable it is that this is the same woman who is the galaxy’s most feared information broker._

“I think you’re adorable… I mean… it’s adorable, well… the movies…”

At the first statement, Liara’s head had snapped up, looking Traynor directly in the eyes with what almost seemed like hope, though Traynor kept asking herself whether she was projecting her own hope. Traynor looked around, awkwardly, feeling her first statement, and the blunders afterwards hang in the air as the color drained from her face and her head stayed fixed forwards, eyes darting. She stood up, hastily, slapping her hands gently on her pants as she did so.

“Well… I’ll get some snacks?”

Liara, as if broken from a trance, took a sudden intake of breath as she focused back on her omnitool, pulling up an order service.

“Ah, yes. I’ll order some dinner. Have you eaten?”

“Uh, no, I haven’t.”

“Does Asari fare sound acceptable?”

“I haven’t tried it, but there’s a first for everything.”

Traynor walked over to the kitchenette, bringing out a large bowl and filling it with what appeared to be the Asari equivalent of popcorn, though she couldn’t be sure, talking to Liara while she did so across the Apartment.

“You know, for how much I appreciate the invitation, I can’t help but wonder why I was the one invited?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re… you’re Doctor Liara T’Soni. Shadow Broker. Leading Prothean Archaeologist. Member of the team which brought down Saren and the one who found The Crucible. I would have expected you to invite Garrus or Tali or Shepard, even Boyd. Not me.”

Liara paused, hanging her head slightly as she began to speak, slowly, almost timidly.

“Well… Garrus is dealing with the hierarchy, Tali and Shepard are… indisposed, and Boyd and I don’t know each other that well.” Liara sighed, heavily, almost sadly as Traynor walked over, handing her the drinks she had prepared. “The truth is, Traynor, I don’t have many friends on The Normandy. You’re one of the few.”

Traynor sat down, closer to Liara than she had been before, the two equally acutely aware of the mere centimeters which separated them as Traynor set the bowl down in between them, looking at Liara.

“Well, you certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

Liara smiled, blindly reaching into the bowl and grabbing out a piece while using her omnitool to load the movie, stopping dead as soon as she put it in her mouth, looking at Traynor, speaking slowly, barely hiding laughter and failing to conceal a small smirk.

“Sam… do you know what this is?”

“I… assumed this was Asari popcorn? I mean, it looked… similar?”

Liara laughed, continuing to chew and swallowing before picking up another piece, looking at Traynor, mirth evident in her eyes, the Specialist still monumentally confused as to what was so funny.

“No… the closest human equivalent to this would probably be croutons.”

Immediately, Samantha’s face turned brilliant red as she grimaced in embarrassment, her left palm coming up to hold her face as she bowed it, Liara laughing at the display and the thought. After a few seconds, she reached out, grabbing Samantha’s wrist and moving her hand away from her face. Liara was acutely aware of the contact, it felt almost electrifying to her as she moved Sam’s hand out of the way; Samantha was too far embarrassed to notice beyond the reassuring presence the head and alien-textured skin brought.

Liara moved her face to Sam’s field of vision, smiling as she spoke.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. In fact, I almost prefer these to the typical snack.”

Samantha looked at Liara, and then began to laugh, both at how distraught she was feeling and at her own cultural mistake, confusing Liara for a while before she began too, the two of them laughing heartily as the movie began. They continued to make comments and quips to each other about the movie, Liara speaking of the first time she saw it, Traynor of the parallels it had in human film, their jokes bouncing between them and enjoyment genuine as two friends who had grown with each other in the face of an intergalactic war, the bond of genuine friendship and amorousness layered on the comradery of struggle to create a connection which was stronger than either would admit, or even really knew themselves.

Eventually, however, the fatigue of the past months away caught up to them both, and four eyelids found themselves sinking low over two sets of eyes, the both of them falling asleep with their heads back, mouths open and breathing heavily, almost peacefully, certainly more so than whenever they were on the Normandy. The movie played itself out, Blasto saving the day and the credits running out before the screen turned itself off, the apartment dark and quiet as the two women slept deeply next to each other, Liara snoring softly as Traynor uttered slight gibberish in her sleep.

Traynor’s dreams were not peaceful, hadn’t been since she received the news of her sisters, images of their conversion, of awful phantoms assaulting The Normandy, wearing their faces underneath their masks, desecrating their memories as they commandeered their bodies, stealing their forms to inflict pain and death on the universe. Pain struck her heart as she watched them drop from a Cerberus shuttle, faces blank and eyes devoid of anything but the synthetic glow of the robotic violations of their bodies, seeking her friends out in their scope and firing on them with the vitriolic hate which had been uploaded as they had died, terror their last emotion. But her heart broke equally when she watched her friends gun them down, bullets tearing through the flesh which she once knew, still loved, the corpses dropping, empty, devoid of humanity, but the connection to the people who once were so dear to her in life and had evolved to be all the more so in death undeniable, painful, heart wrenching.

Liara’s dreams were no better as her mind, her ever-active imagination filled it with constructions of the news she received daily, the casualty reports and astounding destruction of which she was painfully informed taking nightmare qualities beyond the horror it already contained. She flitted from her burning home to the obliterated streets of Cipritine, watched as ghoulish cannibals took children, as banshees tore through elderly couples cowering behind shared love and a short dividing wall. Her mind created in incisive detail the burning of the galaxy around her, and she was but a passenger on the cavalcade of guilt-ridden horror.

The two of them did not sleep peacefully, both tossing and turning with the invective images of their mind beating them into the dark pit which threatened always with the war. Eventually, their hands found each other, clinging as ships in a storm do to their harbors, their minds finding the warm presence in the cold void of their own terror, clutching to it desperately. They eventually laid themselves down on the couch, holding each other as they slept. Liara’s mind, so desperate for the affection, so denied the feelings which it had developed for the human woman, reached out to find Samantha’s, Liara appearing besides her in her dream as Shepard gunned down the shell of her sister again, passing over the corpse as one would an enemy, ignorant to the pain which was held in her heart as she watched. Traynor reached over and took Liara’s hand as the scene changed, the variance of fantasy which dreams are made of molding the scene to one of Liara’s horrific scenes of mass death and destruction, the evisceration of happiness and peace by a threat practically unstoppable but by a desperate attempt at an unknown technology. Liara looked at Traynor and smiled weakly as the two felt the connection through their contact, dreamed though it may be, the combined strength it gave, the safe harbor and unyielding caring, love even, flowing through their hands.

he two ceased turning on the couch and held each other all the closer, unaware of the connection that was occurring, convinced it was just a figment of their active emotions and imaginations again, as it had seemed before, just more tactile, more relieving.

They slept, for the rest of the night, holding each other close, faces mere centimeters away, more peacefully than either had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: if you aren’t, you should follow me on tumblr: http://strainofthestress.tumblr.com/  
> I tend to reblog a lot of mass effect stuff, as well as all of my fics, you can even find some assorted pics of the Shepard’s I write, if you’re ever curious. Plus, it’s a great way to find other writers in the ME fandom. So, follow me!  
> Next, prepare yourself for unusual amounts of fluff, we’ve started to take shore leave. There will be plot points, but plenty of very fluffy fluff to come. Hopefully I manage to keep it realistic and believable for the characters, if not let me know.  
> Traynor and Liara have been a bit of a tricky part for me, I honestly believe the two characters fit together, and I’ve been trying to bring them together well, but I fear I’m about as hopeless with romance in my writing as I tend to be in real life, so I honestly have no clue how well I’ve done. Either way, after the last chapter I figured it was time to start throwing them a little bit closer to each other, and this was the result. I think it turned out pretty well, at least somewhat believable. Biggest thing was Liara’s slightly more relaxed persona, the Liara that has taken a break from The Shadow Broker for a bit. I’ve always imagined that Liara kept a bit of herself that we saw in ME1, the more innocent young Asari, hidden away, locked beneath all the walls and safeguards she needs to carry out her tasks.  
> And of course, John and Tali fluff. Admittedly, I may have stolen the idea a little bit from Kaidan’s Citadel scene, but I thought it’d be kind of fun. I’ve always thought Tali would have a basic idea of how to prepare food, but actual cooking would be a bit… alien, to her, since she’s never needed to. I dunno, seemed fun to me. I think it worked to.  
> As always, please let me know what you think, I love getting comments and feedback! And if you have any ideas for things you’d like to see while we’re on shore leave at the Citadel, by all means let me know! Please!  
> But above all, enjoy!  
> SotS


	15. Shore Leave Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Tali share some music and Liara and Traynor wake up as Citadel Shore Leave continues.

Shepard’s Apartment, 0530 Hours

Shepard sat up in bed, noticing immediately the empty spot before him, the cold sweat which coated his chest chilling him against the air in the room, the tortured nightmares which had twisted his sheets and clenched his fists evaporating in the peaceful darkness of the room. His breathing relaxed from the quick gasp which it had been when he first woke up, quieting slowly against the absolute silence of the room.

Absolute, except for the small piano sounds which could be heard echoing through the cavernous room beyond the door, softly carrying over the air, laden with memory and emotion lacking in skill.

Slowly, John stood up out of bed, finding a pair of sweat pants and sweatshirt on the floor in the dark before leaving the room, the apartment dark and the lights of the eternally-active Citadel outside eerily glowing throughout the large and still unfamiliar apartment. Squinting his eyes against the light, he saw a lone figure sitting at the Piano left in the corner of the apartment, a single hand hovered over the keyboard, caressing soft notes out of the instrument.

Softly, Shepard padded down the stairs, approaching the piano as Tali continued to plink notes out of it, an aimless melody borne more of a need to create and express than any training and technical skill. As he sat down beside her, Tali retracted her hand from the keyboard as if it had suddenly grown hot, turning her un-helmeted face towards Shepard. A shimmering wet coating lay over her softly iridescent eyes as she spoke, bottom lip trembling with barely contained emotion.

“John, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry to wake you.”

John smiled softly, leaning in to softly kiss Tali before he spoke, his smile tired and sad but no less loving.

“I wasn’t exactly sleeping well.”

“Nightmares?”

“Always. What’s got you up?”

Tali looked at the keyboard, the soft blue glow from the keys reflecting against her pale skin as she spoke softly, barely above a whisper.

“Too many friends… people… dead. It was bad, this morning. I just… it was too much to hold.”

John scooted closer to her, pulling her against his right shoulder as she rested her head on it, a light heaving rocking her chest as sobs of a low cry escaped her previously barely-maintained composure, John’s hand rubbing her right arm gently as he spoke, again softly.

“Have you ever played?”

Tali shook her head into his shoulder, swallowing down another sob as she did so. John drew a long breath before breaking his arm out from their mild embrace, centering himself on the keyboard and bringing his hands to the keys, a familiar but seldom-practiced art flowing through his brain as he began to clumsily find the right keys, the chords and notes floating on the air as a melody and song began to take shape underneath his careful care. Slowly, Tali sat up, watching John as he played gently, softly, seeming less to control the instrument as to dance with it, invoke pure emotion from it which spoke equally of loss and determination, death and life and fight and victory and defeat.

“I didn’t know you played.”

John spoke softly over his playing, now beginning to sway softly with the music as it erupted from the instrument, repeating the same phrase again but with slight embelishments, new emotion coming through as his right hand danced over a simple but no less meaningful line, returning eventually back to the chords and repeated notes.

“There’s more free time on deployments than they ever tell you. One of my friends had a roll-up keyboard, let me play with it for a while. After… after Elysium, one of my doctors, therapist really, suggested I play. You know, to try and… let everything else. I can’t write worth half a damn, but turns out I’m half decent a musician. So, I just kind of… kept playing.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Shepard continued to play, repeating the phrase and the line, variations and embellishments crossing from his fingers onto the keyboard as new emotions and layers and memories and faces drifted in and out of his mind. The world fell away as he played, the room and the piano evaporating as he focused solely on the keyboard, his fingers dancing over it sadly, languidly, elegantly, drawing melodies and countermelodies out of it as the stress of the past few months, of a war which he feared could never be won and a galaxy which was burning around him came out. His nightmares had been horrific, terrifying, full of loss and grief as they always were, a tortured sleep for the soldier who could never rest. As he played they returned, the men he had lost, the boys he had seen destroyed by weapons of a war some were too young to understand, the civilians drawn into a galactic war which enemy raged against their very existence and which they were powerless to stop. Mordin, Legion, Thane, all appeared next to him, before him, as his playing became ever more passionate, ever more frantic, building in speed and volume until eventually his hands stopped, his breaths ragged and tears flowing openly down his face.

Slowly, he picked his hands up, rested them back on the keyboard, making no movement but simply feeling the connection with the instrument, the warmth of the heated-keys comforting under his fingers as he felt Tali put an arm around him, speaking quietly.

“Hey, you okay?”

John closed his eyes, sniffled as he felt the tears continue to flow over his face.

“No, Tali. I’m not.”

Tali scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder again, speaking softly, emotionally, closing her eyes gently as she did so.

“Me neither. Will you play it again?”

“Does it help?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, John began to play again. The song slower, more laden with denied futures and empty friendships as he played for himself and Tali, the two feeling the music move through them as he did so, but feeling each other in the void that encompassed them and the quiet tones, rather than facing it alone. Eventually, Tali spoke again, so soft John could barely hear her over the piano.

“Does it have a name?”

The corners of Johns’ mouth turned upwards slightly as he moved his hands, swayed gently with the music, Tali following suit, speaking equally quietly, as though conveying a closely guarded secret to not only her but himself, a title coming forwards where none had previously been.

“An end, once and for all.”

Silversun Hotel, Room 3215, 0800 Hours

Traynor inhaled softly, pleasantly as she saw the soft glow of the hotel room’s lights through her eyelids, still half asleep but being brought slowly awake by the increasing light level in the room. She squinted her left eye open first, hazily regarding the table and spilled bowl of, something in front of her, the TV now off and the blinds opening slightly, allowing the light from the nebula to seep into the room. Her other eye followed suit, now, slowly opening as her eyes focused themselves, the scene before her coming into sharp detail along with the pain in her neck, a low ache in the left side, due no doubt to the rather uncomfortable angle her head seemed to have found itself in for the night. Her left arm was bent awkwardly beneath her body, entirely numb to the point where she could not will the fingers she saw peeking out in front of her to move, and her right hand seemed to be clutching something to her chest, though she couldn’t figure out what, and had no need to move to look down, her bed had become incredibly comfy. As she woke up, her brain began to realize a rather strange fact.

_This is… not, my bed. I don’t even think this is my room. And that bowl of… whatever, is certainly nothing I would keep in my pantry. Oh no, I’ve fallen asleep in somebody else’s room, haven’t I? I better get up, out, before…_

As Traynor went to sit up, she heard a soft protest behind her, a groggy moan that seemed to come from a familiar voice. Her mind sprung instantly awake, consciousness and mental capacity rushing into her brain like a Krogan battle charge.

_That’s Liara, isn’t it. I fell asleep in her room. With her. On her couch. Oh no, that’s probably her arm I’m holding too…_

Traynor moved her head slowly, careful not to disturb Liara too much, as she looked down and saw the Asari’s hand draped over her mid-rif, clutched in Traynor’s right directly over her chest.

_Liara is going to kill me. How I could I have been so careless? How, could I have let this happen? Why did this happen, we’re just friends, aren’t we? No, Sam, it’s probably a little late to keep telling yourself that. I need to get out, before…_

In her thoughts Samantha had moved slightly, jostling the couch as she extricated her left arm out from under her, the limb hanging limply in front of her as the blood rushed painfully into it, sensation coming back with a violent protest from her body to not deprive it of blood.

Her jostling, however, caused another protest from the figure behind her, and she felt the blue arm pull her closer, a surprising amount of strength coming from it and pulling Samantha a few inches back, closer to Liara behind her until she could feel the heat from her body radiating on her back, the gentle breeze of her breath moving over her neck and hear the soft sighs that sounded with each exhale. Traynor’s mind paused.

_Did she just… Well, all things considered, this isn’t… too bad. She’s actually, rather warm. Really, very warm. And extremely comfortable, and who am I to protest when she just pulled me closer?_

Traynor readjusted herself slightly, snuggling back farther into Liara as she ignored the voice in her mind protesting the reaction as inappropriate and unsolicited, enjoying the heat and sleepy sound of contentment she heard from Liara behind her, closing her eyes in her own contentment.

_This really isn’t too bad. Not at all._

After a few minutes, Traynor heard a voice speak from the back of her head, the one she never wanted to acknowledge but which finally broke through the pleasant contentment of her situation.

_Sam, you’re running on borrowed time. You have no indication that she feels anything close to the same way… She’s sleeping, she doesn’t know she’s reaching for you, you’re just a source of warmth. You even dreamed of her last night, that’s not a good sign…_

With a mild scrunching of her eyelids and a slight movement further backwards, Samantha silenced the voice, enjoying the warmth behind her and the arm over her. Slowly, she drifted back to sleep, sounder sleep than she had enjoyed all night as she felt Liara’s presence behind her.

As she did so, Liara began a similar process of waking up, her mind hazily coming out of the restful world she had been enjoying after so many hours of stress and sadness, her breathing coming faster, slightly shallower. As she came out of sleep she felt a warmth in front of her, opening her eyes slowly to be greeted by a hazy light coming around a dark mass in front of her.

_Goddess, I must have taken my pillow again. I really need to get over this, I’m over a hundred years old, you’d imagine I would stop cuddling up with pillows when I sleep. I better get up, Glyph can only manage my feeds for so long…_

Liara went to sit up before she heard a breathing in front of her, her head setting back down the few centimeters it had risen off of the pillow. Her mind racing groggily as she tried to figure out who could be in front of her, as well as why she was not in her bed. The movement, however, stirred the air around her enough for her to catch a smell of familiar shampoo, waking her mind up instantly, memory rushing back as she realized where she was.

_Traynor, Sam. We must have fallen asleep during the movie last night, I can’t even remember the ending… I must get out of here, I know my own rather… indiscrete, feelings have been growing, but I have no guarantee, no indication she feels the same at all. I need to leave, before this gets embarrassing for us both…_

Liara went to sit up, propping her left hand beneath her before she realized her right arm was clutched to Traynor’s chest, Traynor’s right hand gripping around hers tightly, pulling it to her chest. Traynor felt the movement behind her and seemed to groan softly in protest, her brows leaving their worriless position to furrow cutely – _No, I did not think cutely. That is too far, Liara, you cannot let yourself think that way_ – over her face, Liara noticing and softly laying back down.

_Goddess, Liara, now you’ve done it. You of all people ought to know better, you know how much trouble she’s had sleeping since she learned of her family, even more so since the Citadel coup… You really are thick, aren’t you?_

Slowly, Liara began to notice the warmth Traynor had, the way she clutched Liara’s hand as though it were a lifeline keeping her to port during a storm, precious and to be protected at all costs. She tried to move the hand, before she got anymore ideas, but Traynor simply protested again, pulling it closer to her and moving her left hand to grab it as well. Liara relaxed back into the couch, ignoring the minor pain in her neck as she moved herself forwards, slightly, pressing into the heat she could feel even through Traynor’s uniform and her own lounge clothes.

_I suppose, if she holds onto my hand that way, I have no place to deny her._

A voice spoke from the back of Liara’s head, the one she commonly named “reason” and used when handling her information feeds.

_This is wrong, Liara, you’re preying on her own sleep habits to satisfy your… what? Crush? You need to get out of there, as soon as possible… Friends don’t do this._

Liara listened to the voice before another, one she had not heard in a long time that spoke with passion and emotion, one she thought dead and long buried, spoke up:

_Perhaps we could be more than friends._

The world stood still as the thought resonated through Liara’s mind, doing the same in Traynor’s (who had since fallen into a state not quite asleep but neither awake), bringing to mind a thousand days of a hundred years before them spent next to each other in the warm son of a saved galaxy, breakfasts and warm affections shared over cups of coffee and tea, ballrooms and gowns and friends abound as a galaxy healed itself and love and life flourished despite the destruction it had faced. There were also a hundred days of much fewer years spent fighting, running, desperately attempting to save a galaxy that was decidedly doomed from a force so much more powerful that the attempts were recognizably futile; but days and years spent side-by-side in the fight, strength given and taken from each other in a dance of hearts and minds that could never be quenched by the terrible foe; a future imperfect in its setting but no more tainted in its sentiment.

The two sat there, continuing to grasp each other, enjoy the moment, as the lights got brighter and the shades higher, both too afraid of a lack of reciprocation from the other to dare awake them. Slowly, surely, both fell asleep, peacefully this time, meeting in a field of dreams and paradise of futures which they both thought to be their own only, running amidst their feelings and affections without knowing that they were seeing the other’s reciprocation on the subconscious level, Liara’s mind reaching out to Traynor’s.

Silversun Hotel, Room 3215, 1000 Hours

Once again, Liara’s eyes blinked open, though this time memory returning quickly, a pleasant smile flitting across her face as she remembered earlier that morning, before falling into a frown at the empty spot in front of her, the air that sat in front of her in place of the friend she had finally admitted she’d like to become more, her arm falling limply to the couch. She began to sit up, propping herself up on her left arm before looking around, peeking over the edge of the couch just slightly as she regarded the apartment, the now-quiet television and open blinds, the spilled bowl of Samantha’s “Snacks”, her head swiveling until she saw the kitchen.

Samantha was standing in front of the stove, holding a pan in which something appeared to be sizzling, a strange machine next to her dropping a dark liquid which Liara thought she recognized as “coffee” into a glass carafe. Traynor had pulled her hair into a pony-tail, though if Liara’s experience with human hair meant anything it was apparaent that it was in a slightly discheveled state from the night’s sleep. Her uniform was slightly wrinkled, the shirt twisted lightly and no longer neatly tucked into her belt the way it typically was, but above all the largest change Liara saw in Traynor was a small smile which seemed fixed on the human’s lips, not large enough to be obviously noticeable but undeniably present, and seeming as though a single, happy secret was behind it, a knowledge that made Traynor exceptionally pleased, though Liara knew not what.

Samantha heard the shifting in the room behind, turning her head to see Liara sitting up slowly, scrubbing her face in her hands as she did so. Traynor smiled, reaching for the coffee pot and grabbing one of the mugs she had set out on the counter, pouring the steaming liquid into the mug before moving the pan off of the stove, padding over in her socks to Liara bearing the coffee in her left hand and a bowl of creamer packets in her right, setting the creamer down on the table and offering the mug to Liara as she stood a few feet from her, smiling warmly down at thenow-stretching Asari.

“Morning, Liara. I don’t know if you drink coffee, but I always like some in the morning. I kind of… well, I hope you don’t mind, I made some coffee using your coffee maker.”

Liara looked up, smiling warmly back at Traynor as she took the cup, grasping it with two hands as she took the liquid to her mouth, obliging Traynor’s expectant look as she sniffed it, the bitter smell assaulting her nose as entirely foreign in comparison to the subtle, subdued tastes that made up the majority of Asari flavors. Slowly, she put the mug to her lips, letting the hot liquid flow into her mouth before the swallowed, the dark and slightly bitter aftertaste filling her tongue with a slight tingling. _This is… intriguing. I think I may need more before I can drink it regularly, but I can certainly finish this for Sam’s sake…_

She looked up at Samantha, relief filling the human’s face as Liara smiled at her.

“Thank-you for the coffee, Samantha. What else are you making in my kitchen?”

A small blush took over Traynor’s cheeks as Liara grinned devilishly at her, the two making their way over to the kitchen, Traynor resuming her post at the oven, Liara seating herself on the bar-stools which were over the counter. Samantha’s answer was slightly sheepish, embarrassed to be caught making breakfast without permission, though the spatula in her hand announced she had no intention of stopping.

“Well… you were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you to ask permission… have you ever had pancakes?”

“I don’t believe I have.”

“Well, they’re a bit of a standard of human breakfast, sort of like… I guess sweet discs of pan-fried batter? No, that makes them sound way more disgusting than they actually are. Anyways, my grandmother used to make these _fantastic_ blueberry pancakes, so I picked up a few ingredients and started to make some, they should be ready in…” Samantha eased her spatula under the edge of one of the large pancakes sitting in the middle of the pan, lifting it up to reveal a beautifully golden bottom which matched the top of the pancake, causing her to quickly grab one of the plates she had ready and move the pancake swiftly onto it, placing it in front of a slightly perplexed Liara. “…Well, now.”

Liara picked up the knife and fork which Traynor had offered her before timidly cutting into the pancake, regarding it slightly suspiciously before looking back at Traynor who waved a hand at her, smiling as she egged Liara on. Slowly, she ate the pancake, chewing for a few seconds before her face lit up, a memory bubbling to the surface of her mind like a ray of sunlight through a bank of clouds.

“Sam, are you sure this is human?”

“Definitely. Why? Don’t tell me we stole it from the Protheans or something…”

“Oh goddess, no. This is just… there’s a dish remarkably similar to this on Thessia, my mother used to make them for me when I was younger. They were thicker, and usually purple, but the taste was uncannily similar. Do you have anything you drizzle on it? We used to put…”

Samantha’s face lit up as she heard Liara mention the social equivalent, reaching spastically behind her to grab the syrup bottle which had been predatorily fetched, wheeling it suddenly over to Liara who was startled by the bottles sudden appearance in close proximity with her face, quickly recovering and taking it quickly, drizzling it heavily over her pancakes before eagerly taking another bite. She closed her eyes, humming softly in contendedness. She spoke warmly, happily, as she felt herself regress in age about a hundred years.

“It’s different, certainly, but not by much. Sam, how did you know?”

Samantha laughed, putting another pancake on top of Liara’s while she finished up her own stack, speaking as she did so.

“Blame me, not my stomach. Sometimes it just _needs_ pancakes. I hope you don’t mind.”

Liara smiled at her while she walked around the counter, sitting beside Liara with her own plate of pancakes.

“Not at all, what’s mine is yours. It’s what friends do.”

Traynor’s voice got suddenly distant, though neither woman commented on it, both too scared of denial or rejection to move to the clear next portion of the conversation.

“Friends… yeah.”

They ate in silence for a few seconds more before Liara spoke up, her mouth full of food, causing her to pause, swallow, and re-start.

“Did you… Did you sleep well?”

Samantha was unable to suppress the giggle which came out as a result of the sound of Liara speaking through her mouth full of pancake, smiling at Liara as the Asari giggled back, both of their eyes shining with mirth. After a few seconds, the deep blush returned to Traynor’s cheeks, Liara’s taking a darker shade of blue as they both thought back to the stolen moments at the beginning of the morning, Traynor of the comfort of Liara’s arm around her, Liara of the warmth and comfort of holding Traynor.

“Yeah, very well. Well, except for the crick in my neck, turns out couches aren’t meant for sleeping. You?”

Liara smiled sheepishly, swallowing before answering.

“Yes, very well. Thank-you.”

Silence reigned over the kitchen for a few moments after the exchange, both women looking anywhere but the others’ eyes as they stole a few treasured remaining recollections of just a few hours ago. Traynor finished her pancakes and looked over at Liara as the Asari finished her pancakes, pushing the plate forwards and impacting the cup of coffee, still full but certainly no longer steaming.

“You… didn’t really like the coffee, did you?”

Liara spoke almost immediately after Traynor finished, shaking her head mildly in reply smiling sheepishly again at Liara as she spoke, her voice slightly timid, cautious while still trusting in the friendship she had formed with the human next to her.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. It’s a bit… stronger than what I like.”

“Well, how about some tea, then?”

“That’d be nice, yes.”

Traynor stood up, pouring the coffee down the drain and searching through the kitchen as she tried to find the tea bags. Liara remained sitting at the counter, and barely noticed her eyes lingering on Traynor’s backside until the human turned around, snapping her eyes up to her eyes.

“Earl grey alright?”

“Yes, please. Earl Grey, hot.”

In what felt like a few moments Traynor set the cup down in front of Liara, now filled with a much more mellow tea, smelling significantly more pleasant than the ascerbic liquid she had choked down before. Liara took a few sips before smiling – _For how overly-strong the coffee was, I have to admit human tea is quite delightful._ Traynor spoke, interrupting Liara’s thoughts.

“Liara, do you have any plans?”

Liara looked at Traynor before her face fell into concern, bringing up her omnitool to check her calendar, sending a quick message to Glyph after seeing an entirely booked afternoon – “Glyph, please re-route all my messages to the appropriate handlers until 1700 today.”.

“No, no plans.”

Traynor smiled warmly at Liara, her brilliantly white teeth shining through the opening in her lips before her face seemed to become more unsure, her smile shrinking slightly as she angled her head down, looking at Liara through the tops of her eyes.

“Would you… like to… hang out today?”

Liara’s smile was equally warm as she responded.

“I’d love to.”

“Good, me… me too.”

Shepard’s Apartment, 0900 Hours

As Tali finished the final portion of her sleep cycle she could feel full consciousness return, sitting up in bed and reaching her arms as she stretched, inhaling deeply through her nose as she did so, enjoying the feeling of the “fresh” (though still indoor and heavily-filtered air) in lieu of the more typical helmet-filtered air. She smelled an odd, strangely dark smell on the air as she stood up, walking across the room and entering the rest of the apartment, now fully lit and infinitely cheerier than it had been earlier that morning. She could hear soft singing from downstairs, the same place that the odd dark smell seemed to be coming from, causing her to walk down the stairs, her still-suited feet making an unfortunate amount of sound against the steps.

As she came around the wall to the kitchen, she saw Shepard seemingly dancing around the kitchen, grabbing small white oblong objects and depositing their contents in a clearly hot pan, the resulting clear mixture with a strange yellow component sizzling and quickly turning white amidst what appeared to be hot oil. There was a machine she recognized as extremely similar to the one John kept in his stateroom sitting behind him, a familiar dark liquid sitting within the glass carafe.

_That’s what I’ve been smelling: John’s coffee. I’ve been around him for how long now and I’ve never smelled him make coffee without my helmet?_

“Morning, John!”

John spun around on his right foot, the 270 degree spin leaving him almost off balance were it not for his well-rehearsed reflexes, leaving him in a perfect position from which to smile at Tali as he reached for the hot pan, depositing the two fried eggs onto a plate next to two breakfast sausages and what appeared to be mildly-burnt bread covered by some sort of fruit sauce.

“Morning, Tal. Have a better wake-up than earlier?”

“Clearly you did. And yes, I did, thank-you for asking.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

John took his plate and set it on the runner across from the stove, walking around the island to take a seat at one of the two low stools which sat there, grabbing his cup of coffee on the way and setting it in front of him, gesturing to the seat next to him, Tali taking her seat and watching him eat. John spoke through a mouthful of toast and egg, the effect making him barely recognizable but certainly comedic to Tali.

“You eaten yet?”

Tali chuckled as she responded, nodding.

“Yes, I ate earlier, before I started playing around with your… what did you call it?”

“Piano.”

“Yeah. Before I started messing with that, I had a little bit of breakfast.”

John nodded, taking another bite as habit caused him to eat his food faster than most sane individuals would. Within short order, he had finished his plate, wiping it clean of any food debris, causing him to push it to the side and reach for his cup of coffee, turning to his left to face Tali fully, speaking after taking a few sips of coffee.

“You know, I could teach you to play, if you’d like. I’m no master, but we could get  you started at the very least.”

Tali laughed, holding her hands up as she spoke, displaying them in front of John.

“That could be a bit of a problem. That machine looks like it needs ten, not six digits.”

Immediately Tali knew there was something she didn’t know as John’s eyes ignited with an idea and a devious grin flew onto his mouth. He grabbed Tali’s right hand, and amidst her giggled protests dragged them both over to the Piano, activating a previously unknown haptic interface on the top, causing the keys on the right side of the instrument to re-align, the physical keys being revealed to be simply mass-effect surrounded projections, re-arranging themselves such that the keys were wider, and now had a gradient, from green to red right to left on all of them. With a childish grin he set Tali down to sit on the right side of the bench while he sat down on the left, explaining as he did so.

“Turns out Anderson has good taste in Pianos. This one has a “Tri-digit” setting. Basically, the keys are larger, but the notes change based off of how hard you press them, where you press them, and with what part of your finger you press them with. Alright, let’s try this. Repeat after me.”

John put his right hand on the piano, playing a basic five notes up and down, looking expectantly at Tali, who simply alternated between staring at the entirely foreign interface before her and John. John laughed, before nudging her slightly with his elbow.

“Come on, it’ll be easy! Just repeat after me, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. If you can run the Normandy like you do, you can play the Piano.”

Slowly, an idea came to Tali’s face, an equally devious grin that matched John’s earlier one spreading across her mouth as she stood up and walked over towards the interface, her side reconfiguring again into a different instrument altogether, four keys protruding vertically from the bottom of the keyboard, the hexagons containing similar but scaled-down versions within themselves. Comfortably, she sauntered over and sat down, laughing at John’s unhidden look of confusion, his brows knit over his eyes and his mouth hanging open. Smugly, she turned towards him, smiling as she spoke.

“Alright, John, two can play at that. Repeat after me.”

Tali put her fingers into the “keys” which were quickly revealed to be holographic slots, sliding her hands in and out of them, sliding them through and over and down in a lively song which, while alien to John, sounded no less playful, happy, mirthful with the unrestrained joy of a child. After a few seconds Tali finished, grinning gloatingly at John, who was left speechless for a few moments.

“I didn’t know you played the… whatever that is.”

Tali laughed, putting her hands to the interface and playing a much slower, more methodical.

“Of course I play, I’m an admiral’s daughter. You didn’t think my education was limited to engineering, did you?”

John chuckled, closing his eyes and swaying his head gently to Tali’s song, before his mind realized why it sounded gently familiar, putting his hand to the keyboard as he spoke.

“Hold on, that sounds like it might go with a classical Earth song… Hold on.”

Slowly, John started playing, his right hand sticking to a fairly simple melody as his left hand jumped back and forth between a single tone and a series of chords, varying the speed of his song as he tried to fit into Tali’s, eventually finding a match. The two songs were clearly not meant to accompany each other, the easy rhythym of John’s juxtaposing the alien syncopation of Tali’s, but as their tempos matched up, and John changed keys once, they found that the two complemented each other well, giving each classic song a new feel, more modern. Slowly, beaming, Tali turned her head to look at John.

“What song is that you’re playing?”

John smiled equally widely back at her, speaking over their combined sounds.

“It’s called ‘The Entertainer’. It’s an earth classic.”

They both laughed before John got a look of mild concern, looking to Tali as he spoke.

“Does your song have a B section, because we’re getting to mine…”

Tali laughed, looking at her hands in concentration as they continued to play with each other.

“Yeah, in three…. Two… one… now!”

The song fell apart as they both hit into different chord structures and Tali’s song doubled in speed. The two stopped playing after a few seconds, looked at each other once, before erupting into deep laughter, Tali almost falling off of the bench as she laughed, pure mirth and joy ringing through the air with their guffaws. John was the first to regain his ability to speak, still laughing but barely managing to speak over it.

“I guess that still needs a little work, huh?”

Tali was equally almost indisposed, speaking over residiual chuckles.

“Yeah, a bit. We’ll make it work, though. We always do.”

John smiled widely, leaning forwards and kissing Tali through his smile, she smiling back at him as he pulled away.

“You’re damn right we do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did I say about fluff? Entirely. Fluff. All of it. I hope y’all don’t mind my Liara-Traynor fluff, I started putting that romance in there as a “Enh, maybe” (I half wanted to just make it a red herring), but as I write more and more of them, I’m increasingly invested. So, I suppose after they got a solid 2,000 words of fluff here, I’m invested, huh?  
> I’ve always liked the idea that Shepard plays some kind of music, and the piano seemed a natural choice, maybe that’s even why Anderson had one in the apartment. I’ve been batting around how to treat it, and it seemed appropriate to me to show two of the biggest things music is used for: bringing people together, and expressing emotion.   
> Anyways, I don’t have a whole lot to say about this chapter. Oh, except there were parts where I honestly had to take a step back because I thought the Liara-Traynor stuff was too damn cute. Hope that’s not egotistical, but it’s honest.   
> Regardless, please leave comments (I still love getting comments, asks, suggestions, headcanons, anything! I love hearing things from you guys!), and above all else enjoy!  
> SotS  
> P.S. and for those of you not already doing so, follow me on tumblr: http://strainofthestress.tumblr.com/ We have a lot of fun over there (well, I do. Can’t speak for the rest of my followers).


	16. Shore Leave Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Liara and Traynor keep on going down the road they've started on, Shepard and Tali enjoy a day of shopping. A shorter chapter of only fluff as I work to pick this work back up.

Chapter 16: Shore Leave Part 4

 

Silversun Strip, 1200 Hours

 

"... and that's how the Normandy's sub-light communications system works. Now, what's really interesting is the interface between that and our Intelligent Decryption Systems, or IDS. You see, whereas most systems..."

 

Liara nodded vaguely at Samantha as the two sat across from each other on a bench on the eternally active strip, her eyes slightly glazed as her mind struggled to keep up with the passionately detailed and enthusiastically fast explanation of the Normandy's communication systems. The strip itself was as bustling and busy with people as it always was, the silver light from the nebula filtering through the neon and glass to throw across the milling crowd an atmosphere which could be as happy or despairing as those who walked through it, shafts of illumination filtering through the trees and levels to add to the steady cacophony of life an air of inevitable and valuable hustle which made the location so distinctive. However, Liara's attention was not on the popular locale as she struggled to keep up with Traynor's dizzying love for the subject, her eyes instead continually drawn to the beautiful glimmer in Traynor's eyes when she got excited, or the jump of her eyebrows when her voice got fast and the subject got interesting, the soft rustling of her hair over her soft red shirt as she moved her head. 

 

"Liara? Li, you're not getting any of this are you?"

 

The sudden volume of Samantha's voice shook Liara from what had been an inadvertent look of distraction as she had been staring at Traynor's face. The specialist now sat with a bemused smile on her face, leaning forwards towards Liara slightly as she spoke, her eyes making contact with Liara's intensely as she propped herself up on her left hand. Liara couldn't help but smile internally as she admired the pose. 

 

_ Goddess she looks adorable smiling like that...  _

 

Liara smiled softly, chuckling a little bit as she gently closed her eyes and shook her head. 

 

"I'm afraid I haven't been, Samantha. My mind has been on... other things."

 

Liara's mind raced after she spoke: _ Liara! No!You must think of some way to get out of this, that was far too obvious. You're an information broker for goodness' sake, you must understand subtlety better than "thinking of other things" _

 

Samantha's smile turned from bemused to curious as she spoke, her left arm pushing her back up to right herself as her left brought her small coffee mug closer to her lips, a small drink of it coming right after her question. Before the war, she had enjoyed her fair share of the drink, to be certain, it played it's own special role in getting her both her degree and her career in the Alliance. But after stepping onto the Normandy for retrofits, and not leaving for the war, it had become a constant companion to her, from her work-station to her bunk. It had become a bit of a laughing matter among the other crewmembers of the ship how omnipresent Traynor's coffee was, to the point that a donation cup had even been started and resulted in the purchasing of a bag of "Krogan Quads" - a particularly potent blend from the Terminus systems  renowned for its high caffeine content - with Traynor's name literally on it. 

 

"Oh? And what on earth could be more interesting than the Normandy's sub-light receiving array and IDS system?"

 

Liara's mind raced as she struggled to answer:  _ Well, clearly I can't just say "Your face" - that's the sort of answer you were giving when you were 25, not over 100. Besides, you don't even know if she has feelings for you that way yet, it was only last night you admitted to yourself that you have feelings for her... come on, there's got to be something… _

 

"I received a message from Glyph which I've been thinking about how to handle."

 

Samantha's face fell almost immediately upon hearing it, her brows furrowing atop her face as she finished her sip of coffee, her voice carrying equal parts concern and disappointment. 

 

"Liara, if you have work you need to attend to, please don't let me keep you. It's probably more important than listening to me lecture on."

 

Liara's heart broke slightly at the sight of Traynor's disappointment, her response practically pre-empting the end of traynor's.

 

"No, Sam, it's fine. I can stay."

 

"Really, Li, I don't mind. You have things to attend to, I understand that, I have no right to..."

 

"I'd like to stay."

 

The authority of Liara's statement took Samantha aback slightly, her mouth left open slightly as she looked into Liara's eyes, the blue containing the same resolution her voice had. Liara's heart raced as she stared into Traynor's eyes, doing her best to keep her facade as strong and determined as her voice had sounded, the response seeming to slip out before she even had time to consider what she had said. 

 

Samantha closed and opened her mouth a few times, her eyes blinking in synchrony as she worked her way through what was just said, battling the hope that sprung inside her immediately to take hold of the statement.

 

_ She said she wanted to stay! That has to be a sign! If that isn't, I don't know what is! Liara's work is the most important thing to her, and she just said she'd rather spend time with me than give time to that! That's got to mean a lot! _

 

No, Sam, that just means she likes spending time with a friend. How many exams did you study for last minute because you were out hanging out with friends into the late hours of the night, and you never had romantic feelings towards them. Don't get your hopes up. Give her time to take care of it, and then keep spending a day with your friend. 

 

"Well... alright then."

 

Samantha cracked open the lid of her coffee cup to look inside, seeing clearly the bottom, before standing up, stretching her back as she did so. 

 

"I'm going to go get some more coffee, you take as much time as you need to sort out whatever issue it is. You want anything?"

 

"I'm fine, thank you."

 

Liara returned Traynor's smile as the human left to go get another cup of coffee, leaving Liara with her thoughts as she took out her omnitool to feign work. 

 

_ She seemed really rather taken aback.. i hope that wasn't too aggressive. No, it couldn't have been, since she didn't seem disdainful. But, she didn't exactly seem approving or enthusiastic either. Well, I certainly won't turn down the opportunity to spend more time with Sam… _

 

Liara turned and caught Samantha's eye as she stood in line for a free refill of her cup, the two smiling sweetly at each other before Liara turned back to her omnitool, feigning work to support her white lie while samantha cursed the popularity of this particular coffee shop on the citadel. 

By the time Traynor returned, Liara had run out of low level tasks to tkae care of, the rest of the items on her to-do list requiring more time and energy than she was willing to take away from her time with Traynor today. The smell of Traynor's coffee wafted into Liara's nose as she set the cup down, the lid removed to assist in cooling the black liquid down. Traynor sat down soon after setting the cup down, gracefully draping herself over the bench as she turned and watched the crowd next to Liara, the Shadow Broker's omnitool quickly minimizing as the Asari turned to do the same, tracking the individuals who crossed her path as they milled back and forth, the frenetic movement of a population clinging to life and grabbing as much as they could in face of annihilation. 

 

Shepard's Apartment 1345 Hours

 

Tali's laughter echoes pleasantly through the empty apartment as she and Shepard burst through the door, both laden down with bags of groceries, the material results of a morning out shopping and exploring the Citadel markets. Despite some protests from the Csec guard which had been clandestinely set up outside and around Shepard's apartment (an email with some choice words was headed to Commander Bailey's way), John and Tali had made their way, sans security, to the lower market-places of the Citadel. The markets were busy, even earlier in the morning, different species peddling their wares to the throbbing throng of people that pulsed by, shouts for various exotic foods and prices which neither Shepard nor Tali knew to be high or low piercing the din of the corridors. They walked for miles in the massive canyon, cars zipping by overhead, a piece of debris occasionally falling in front or behind of unexpecting shoppers, to a few yells and curses under breaths. Different areas of the markets catered to different species, the sections typically delineated by a food-court which was inevitably a hodgepodge of restaurants and smells form the species that surrounded it. 

 

While Anderson had left the Apartment for Shepard well enough stocked to live in, it was apparent that the Admiral had not lived in it himself for some time, the walls barren of any sort of personalized decoration, nothing but stock art and sculptures taking up room in the massive estate. Moreover, the food Anderson had set out was standard to say the least, some of the more specialty produce or spices missing from the spice cabinets, and certainly from Tali's specific Dextro section of the kitchen. These absences combined with a low level of stir-crazy which had been driving Shepard to get away from the apartment in a place that didn't require him to be in uniform, showing his ID, and returning salutes or awestruck stares all day had pushed him and Tali to head out for a day of Shopping. 

 

They had agreed before leaving to try and avoid detection as much as possible. Tali's normal dark purple cloth exchanged for one in a much less familiar shade of light blue with a different, much more geometric pattern on it, her helmet remaining its typical purple. John himself had donned a pair of dirty engineer's pants he had borrowed from Engineering, the dark blue fabric stained in places with grease. On top of this he wore a dark red shirt, the fabric course and the black pattern on it completely unremarkable and barely visible. To top it off, he found a command ballcap from a freighter he and Anderson had once saved from a Batarian Pirate crew in his closet, the entire ensemble screaming space-sailor more than Alliance Commander. 

 

With a soft chime and low hiss, the door closed behind John and Tali, the two making their way into the kitchen before setting their bags down on the counter, Tali's hand immediately jumping up to her mask to remove it, the fresh air hissing through the seals as her entire helmet fell away from her head, bright eyes and a broad smile revealed behind the purple shield. 

 

"Keelah, Shepard, the filter's didn't tell me just how much you smell like engine lube."

 

Shepard spun around, the fridge open in front of him as bottles of white wine were populating one of the shelves, a raised eyebrow sitting above amused eyes. 

 

"Oh? that bad?"

 

"Not as bad as I've smelled before, but certainly worse than I thought. No wonder that group of Batarians gave you so much room."

 

The fridge door closed behind John as he spun around, taking hold of a few dry items in one hand as he opened the overhead cabinet, mentally sorting and placing the food. 

 

"I'll make sure to wear these pants more often, then."

 

His sarcasm almost undetectable, Tali's mouth opened initially in protest, before her mind caught up, a slightly exasperated smirk taking her lips as she put away her own foodstuffs opposite in the kitchen from John. 

 

"Yeah, please do. And I'll make sure to sleep with Liara more often too. Though, I have to say, the view from the rear isn't too bad in those. Didn't know the Alliance cut their uniforms so well..."

 

A small laugh left John under his breath as tali spoke, his hips tilting immediately in such a way as thrust his backside towards Tali, her chortling laugh filling the kitchen once again as she looked behind, standing up to grab a few more of her items. 

 

"Very nice, Marine. Maybe those pants will stay around a bit."

 

Shepard closed the cabinet door softly as he turned around to survey what was left of the groceries finding his bags empty. 

 

As he did so, a small chime punctuated the silence, sounding from every terminal in the house as the screens in the kitchen all litup with a green overlay, a message arrival symbol playing over the previous stream of news and environmental conditions in the apartment' area and surrounding sections. While the Citadel itself was climate controlled, it had been discovered early on that it still underwent periodic temperature fluctuations, mimicking the homeworld' of almost every single species in trend, if not severity. every few months the station would gradually get incrementally colder, and then warmer again, the humidity in the air varied too, all run through the environmental systems, monitored by the keepers, but which no reverse engineering team had yet turned too, since there had never been reason to believe a malfunction had occurred or was likely. But, for right now, the information stream had been interrupted by the incoming message. 

 

Shepard and Tali both turned to look over their shoulder, Shepard sighing slightly as he finished stowing the shopping bags away, walking over to the small desk he had appropriated as his office, opening the terminal to check his message inbox. Flooded as it normally was with thankful messages of survivors and survivors' family, messages of despairing hope from those staring loss in the faith across the table from an empty dinner seat, or simply adoring emails from those for whom the Commander had become the paragon of hope, his high priority messages always floated to the top of his inbox, glowing a reddish-orange with urgency. A new one sat atop the pile, the sending address from a Turian diplomat whose personal ambitions had found numerous ways to get in the way of peaceful cooperation between the Turians and the Krogan. Normally, Shepard would not begrudge a young politician his ambition, the memory of his days as a young Marine gazing longingly at the N7 posters which plastered the walls at Alliance Recruit Training Command, the spark of ambition lighting a fire which had propelled his career since. But this was neither the time nor the place to put personal interests above anything. 

 

As Tali walked in a frustrating sigh left John's mouth, his eyebrows furrowed forwards as he collapsed the terminal with a harder push than necessary, his steps falling heavily as he made his way towards the stairs that led up to their bedroom. 

 

"What's going on, John?"

 

The sound which left Shepard's mouth was halfway between a groan and a growl as he opened his closet door, his pants and shirt being left where they fell while he plucked the elements of his dress uniform out, laying them out on the bed as he walked into the bathroom, picking up his razor as he spoke. 

 

"Oh, Valeen's just decided that he wants to amend some of the charter regulations for Krogan troops on-board Turian vessels, and re-examine the chain of command for turian troops deployed to Krogan-designated zones."

 

Tali waltzed in behind Shepard into the bathroom, speaking from behind him as she watched him through the mirror, the sink filling with steaming hot water as he splashed his face with it, shaving cream soon to follow. 

 

"I thought those charters had already been signed by both parties? Didn't we put that to bed a few months ago?"

 

Shepard shook his head, his razor about to start making progress on his three-day shadow. 

"You'd think so. But we left it in their that specific sub-comittees had the right to amend the documents as they saw fit, to keep it a live dialogue. But, surprise, Valeen just happened to find himself on two of such sub-committees, and so here I am, having to go put out fires in the face of a galactic apocalypse."

 

Tali walked forwards, draping her arms around Shepard's chest, careful not to move him as he started to bring the blades across his face, the sound of each hair getting sliced rough against the smooth background of the apartment's silent air circulation sysem. 

 

"But who better to do it than Commander Shepard, the symbol to all the galaxy of untiy and cooperation?"

 

John chuckled lightly, washing the razor off and finishing his face as he spoke, his eyes flitting through the mirror between the path through the shaving cream his razor was carving and Tali's eyes over his shoulder. 

 

"I know. But, some days I just want to live a normal life, you know? I don't mind doing what we're doing, I'd much rather be doing it than sitting by watching everything go to hell. But some days, I'd just like to be a normal guy, doing normal things, like going to the grocery store and having movie night with his friends."

 

The water drained out of the sink basin as John gave his face one last rub with his hands, splashing water to do away with the remnants of shaving cream left on the outside of his jaw. He continued talking as he made his way into the bedroom, picking up elements of his uniform as he slipped into it, Tali leaning in the doorway to the bathroom as she watched and listened.

"I like doing what I'm doing, and I know there are plenty of people who would trade a lot to live my life. But sometimes, I'd just love to be another average guy. Live a life without all the shooting and combat, without the politics and policies, just make small decisions about what I'm going to eat today, and where I'm going to run tomorrow, without knowing that I also have to decide where to deploy troops and how many are ‘acceptable losses’ for our commanders."

 

Tali walked forwards as Shepard slipped into his jacket, batting his hands away as she did up the side buttons, speaking as she straightened out his ribbons and brushed some dust off his shoulders. 

 

"John, you and I both know you'd go crazy within half a day just living a normal life. "

 

A small smirk greeted Tali's jocular accusatory smile. 

 

"But I get what you're saying. It'd be nice not to have the pressure of the entire galaxy on your shoulders every day. But there's nobody who is more qualified, nobody who will do a better job of putting out the fires and keeping everyone on track than you. And besides, afterwards, we can go get a house in the middle of an average community and life a life that nobody will think about, and just be normal people.

 

The image of promised years and quiet nights flitted through John's and tali's mind simultaneously as John affixed his cover on his head, stepping in front of the mirror to make sure that all was well before turning to Tali, a broad grin seated squarely on his face. 

 

"Tal, you and I both know we'd both go crazy within half a day in the middle of some quiet neighborhood. We live fast for a reason, and for how much being normal might be, I think it's fair to say we both love our live."

 

Tali laughed, cocking her hip slightly to the left while John turned to start walking towards the door, Tali following behind. 

 

"Are you saying you don't think I could take it?"

 

"No, I'm saying I don't think you'd want to."

 

"I can't exactly say you're wrong."

 

The couple stopped at the door, the smooth pneumatic hiss punctuating the kiss John gave Tali as he bent down, her lips lingering on his as her arms came and wrapped around his neck, their eyes closed in mutual bliss. Eventually, sadly, they broke apart, Tali speaking first. 

 

"I could get used to being kissed on the lips."

 

"I hope, it's gonna be happening a lot more."

 

Tali's tone took an immediate flirtatious tone

 

"Is that a promise?" 

 

John smiled, kissing her again as he headed out the door, the door closign behind him as he finished talking. 

 

"No, just a guarantee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's certainly been a while since I've written anything in this work. But, per a recent request, I'm going to do everything I can to finish it. So, buckle in ladies and gentlemen, we're going all the way to the end. This is a bit of a starter chapter, nothing even remotely big happening, but I wanted to take a bit of time to get back into the story, the characters, my previous style. comments are greatly appreciated, and i'd love some comments on where you guys would like to see the story go, I've got some ideas but input (and feedback) are always, ALWAYS, appreciated.


	17. Citadel, Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali's working coffee gets interrupted by some... interesting sushi, and Traynor and Liara keep on falling farther and farther.

1900 Hours, Citadel Wards

“Excuse me, miss, your… coffee?”

The human waiter bent down to Tali as she sat at her table, her eyes squinted as she focused on the the datapad in her hands; figures and facts, alliances and agreements floating in her mind as she tried to make a cohesive understanding out of the deluge of requests flooding into the Quarian government. The human waiter looked confused enough, probably 10-15 years younger than John and utterly perplexed by the thick, steaming green drink he was holding in a metal cup. The cup had a ring at the top and one at the bottom, sized for the middle of a Turian finger, an appearance which was entirely normal for every 3-fingered species in the galaxy, but which seemed to take ever 5-fingered species by surprise.

“Oh, thank-you. Please, just set it right there”

She gestured to one of the few empty spots on the table that was utterly covered with datapads, the waiter following her hand with eager eyes and gingerly setting the cup down before giving her a short bow, his chestnut brown hair falling onto his forehead as a result, before turning smartly around and walking back to the counter.

_At least that is one nice thing about a human working at a dextro café… most of them don’t have any prejudices to unlearn to my people._

Tali picked her datapad back up, scrutinizing the numbers on it through the slowly dwindling focus that was left in her eyes. Since coming to the Citadel for Normandy retrofits, she had become her government’s unofficial representative there, the Quarians not having any formal embassy or prescense in the government system. The council had been all but pushed out of the majority of governing. The bulk of their power now came from the clout they held within their own worlds, but on the citadel, the military complex and its need were law for all intents and purposes. And while Tali’s position on the Citadel might not have given her a spot in the official government, she happened to know quite a few of the military leaders very well… _very, very well, for one. _

Her hand reached towards the table, aimlessly reaching for the mug but to no avail, her fingers grazing the two finger holes and sending the cup teetering over the table full of datapads. Tali looked up to see the cup about to tip, jumping out of her chair to catch it, but all too late. The “coffee” fell, spilling the liquid all over the table, the metal tumbling down to the ground, making impact as Tali heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire from further down the wards.

Her head popped up instantly, her hands frozen in position as she scrutinized the scene out the café window, the bright neons and fast lights of the hovercars flying by as she listened, as closely as she could to try and catch it again. Just as she was convincing herself that sleep deprivation was playing tricks on her, another rattle from an automatic weapon pierced the air, unmistakably, this time loud enough that the milling throng of people outside stopped to look in the direction.

With direct urgency, Tali stood up, walking over to the counter before looking directly at the human waiter, looking now confused and perplexed with a small sparkle of fear in his eyes.

“Listen to me. I need to go.”

The waiter was still staring into space, Firmly, but without aggression, Tali grasped him by the shoulder, pulling him over the counter until he was but 15 centimeters from her face.

“Listen to me. I have to go. See the datapads on my table?”

The waiter nodded, emptily, the fear in his eyes only magnifying at the intensity of Tali’s voice.

“Gather all of them up, and have them sent to ‘Ambassador Tali Zorah vas Normandy’. Do you remember that name?”

The waiter nodded, panic turning his face an even more aggressive pale, his skin blanced with fear. Tali’s voice softened as she continued talking, assured that the adrenaline at the very least would set-in her message.

“Listen to me. What’s your name?”

“J… J… John” The waiter stuttered out.

“John, alright. I know somebody else by the name of John, you look like him. He’s a good man, it’s a good name. Take all of your staff, go into the kitchen. Wait there for help, and keep an eye on the exits. Don’t do anything stupid, don’t try and be a hero. Alright?”

The waiter nodded frantically, his green eyes still aglow with alarm.

_Keelah… he must think this is a second invasion. He looks so like John might…_

“John, calm down. Everything will be fine, alright? Just get to the kitchen, stay low, and wait for the authorities.”

The waiter nodded before tripping over himself running, the doors swinging behind him as Tali heard hurried footsteps and a few dropped pans.

_Yes… everything will be alright. At least, he’ll think so. And at this point, that’s all that I need._

Tali turned towards the doorway, a pulse of her right fist bringing up her combat HUD display, the visor suddenly awash with tactical data… mini-map, motion tracker, radio channels, waypoint navigation. She walked over to the table, rummaging through her bag, hoping that she had not neglected to carry her phalanx. Her hands found nothing but fabric and more data pads, a short curse coming out under her breath as she stood up, inhaling through her nose as she smelled her combat air filters engage.

While all Quarians wore environmtal suits, extra care and design was put into those worn by individuals in the combat arms. They were, on the whole, sturdier, built with more stout materials and quadruple backups of every life-support system. Regular filters that caught contagions in the air were replaced with self-sufficient air recycling systems, environmental ring seals were backed-up by overlapping sub-suit layers, the helmet visor was upgraded with a tactical HUD system. Tali had managed to survive her first outing with the Normandy using a standard enviro suit, and a damaged one at that. She was still amazed that a stray geth round hadn’t found its way into her enviro, but she also knew that John had done everything he could to keep her away from the bullets, her lack of protection being kept in mind. Upon her return to the fleet, however, she had been outfitted with a Migrant Fleet Marine’s assault outfit which, pending a few of her own modifications, had proved more than a match for any battlefield she could find.

With little hesitation Tali took off running, a red line on her HUD guiding her through the crowd as her software suite tracked and predicted the movements of the throng with coded precision, her breath deepening and her heart-rate increasing as she reduced the distance between herself and the shots as much as possible. She looked to her left, seeing taxi after taxi flee the scene, fear for their life and limb compelling the drivers to leave, whether they had a fair or not. While the station had materially recovered well from the Cerberus coup, it was still fresh in the minds of many of the inhabitants; mothers still clutching their children closer at the sound of a dropped datapad, C-Sec officers still walking with three more heat sinks than regulations demanded, citizens still noting where the nearest emergency exit was.

_If there was ever a way to bring the war to this station, Cerberus found it. There isn’t a soul on-board who isn’t constantly looking over their backs, checking for another ambush. For once, they almost all seem to be working together. Maybe they’ll finally understand the threat that they’re under…_

Tali mused as she flitted through the crowd, dodging and pushing others out of her way in her controlled sprint to the scene. Roughly a minute after she heard the first shots, her helmet picked up a faint firefight, the sound signatures being displayed in front of her. The computer began running through an analysis… weapon type, rounds fired, length of engagement… range. The number flashed in front of Tali’s eyes in stark crimson as she noticed the shot patterns on a faint weapon, listed as unidentified, exactly matched Shepard’s clean, 2-shot hit.

_One in the beginning, another one half a second later. One to the head one to the heart, just to be sure. He’s the only man I’ve ever seen fight with that consistency, and this shows up 5 times. He can’t… no… he’s at the apartment, I’m running towards… The sushi place! Joker invited Shepard to dinner, it must be a trap!_

A man grunted as Tali ran into him full-force, the contents of his hand sprawling all over the wards as he fell. Datapads and heatsinks went flying, and the man scrambled to put his hood back on, pushing onlookers away as he gathered up his belongings, shooting daggers at Tali as she ran away, no time to be concerned with a fallen man. 50 seconds after the firefight, Tali heard more shots, the computer identification going unheeded as she heard what sounded like a large crash of breaking glass and a rushing of water.

Then… silence.

Tali slowed her run to a stop, the crows around her which had since start running to exits stopping to look towards the vacuous silence. Her helmet feed began combing through local news, finding numerous C-Sec lock-downs, disrupted traffic, closed shops.

_These are following a pattern, they’re running along the highway… It looks like in 10 minutes, whatever it is will be at… yes, that bazaar._

With renewed energy Tali took off running, vaulting over planters and half-walls with an energy and skill which can only come from experience. As she did so, a voice came through on her helmet radio, the identity listed as “Private Line” on her visor.

“Tali? Tali? It’s me. I mean, it’s Joker. Listen, Shepard and I were ambushed at the sushi place.”

Tali listened while she jumped into the ventilation shafts, sliding underneath an inoperable HVAC fan as she continued to make her way down to her nearest intersection.

“Ambushed? How? By who?”

“I don’t know. But they’ve got guns and really don’t like Shepard. They shot the whole place up and took Brooks, and I think she even got shot… then they shot..”

“Wait, who’s Brooks?”

“Oh, Staff Analyst Brooks. Some tech-head from Alliance HQ. Said she knew something about some identity theft conspiracy… I’ll explain it later. Listen, what you need to know, is that there are men with guns out to get shepard, they made him fall through a fish-tank, and now he’s lord only knows where trying to fight them.”

“Right. I’m on my way to him. Where are you?”

“I uh… commandeered a shuttle? If that’s something we still do. Anyways, I’m swinging back to look for Brooks. We’ll meet you at Shepard’s new apartment?”

“That sounds good. Zorah Ou…”

“Oh, and did you know your precious boyfriend used me as bait?! Bait!!! The only one of the crew who doesn’t…”

With a blissful click Joker was silenced by the severed radio connection, his voice replaced by the static from her now actively scanning radio commset. Within minutes, she was closing in on the bazaar, her radio tuning through the frequencies before latching on-to an active transponder. The identification ran at the top left of her visor

“J. Shepard

CAPT SSV Normandy

Spectre Status”

With a jump in her heart, and an added heat to her steps, Tali called into her microphone, her voice urgent but controlled.

“Shepard? Do you read me? Are you all right?”

Through faint static she heard a familiar voice respond. He sounded like he was gritting his teeth slightly, as if in mild pain, but besides that all that came across was a familiar edge that came from gunfire and grenades.

“I’m fine. Might need a little back up.”

 “Good. Joker explained what happened. I’m on foot, but I should be there soon.”

 

2500, Shepard’s Apartment

“Tea?”

Liara picked her head up from where she had been cupping it in her hands to meet Traynor’s gentle smile, a steaming cup of what could be nothing other than Asari Morning Tea in her offered hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Thank-you.”

Traynor handed the cup off to Liara, the blue hands wrapping around the white porcelain and cradling it underneath as the cup was set down on the table. The specialist took a seat across from Liara, data scrolling in-between them over the die-cast model of the Normandy. Liara and Glyph had been working to process data since Shepard had returned home, scrutinizing data schematics, bill of sales, modifications, a quantity of data which made Traynor’s head spin. For hours Liara had sat, staring at holographic data feeds scroll in front of her on the table and her datapad, her cerulean eyes darting back and forth across the amber and ice feeds in front of her, searching for any iota of data to help her.

Her crewmates often saw the information broker in her, as she told them of goings on in foreign governments long before they occurred, redirected supply lines and refugee ships to exactly where they needed to be. They saw the glamorous Asari, with her galaxy of screens and network of informants who could fell the citadel with three messages, could start a war between the Turians and the Asari with a single assassination. But what they never saw was what really made her a good information broker, the skill she had honed during years of graduate school and field study, only to put it to very good use on Illium, her ability to digest massive amounts of information. She pretended to be the story which they all knew because she felt it’s what they needed, wanted to see of her, but there were signs always of the hours she spent pouring over her omni: the stash of tea bags under her desk, the always made bed which rarely got slept in, the worn leather on her chair which was usually slept in. As she looked up at Traynor, the all too familiar bleariness showing at the fringes of her eyes, her veneer cracked.

The sound the chair made as Traynor pulled it up was cacophony compared to the sleeping apartment, crew-members draped across every horizontal surface which was even remotely fit for sleeping. Liara wiped her eyes and stretched as Samantha sat down, sipping gingerly from her hot coffee. A single glance at glyph disabled the data feed between them, the table warming as it ceased to be bathed in the cold white light from the projection.

“Liara, please, I didn’t mean to interrupt your research.”

“No, really, a distraction would be welcome at this point. If I have to look at one more arms manifest, I think my eyes will stop working altogether.”

The lip of the teacup met liara’s and she inhaled deeply, smiling at the familiar smell, closing her eyes and not noticing the barely suppressed grin spreading on Traynor’s face as she saw the tension release from Liara’s shoulders.

“You have a lot of nights like this, don’t you?”

The question hung in the air, but not threatening, more gracefully, waiting for Liara to sip from her tea and compose her answer before demanding an answer. Delicate blue lips met thin pink liquid as the steam rose on Liara’s breath, spiraling upwards in a barely visible dance. Liara savored the taste in her mouth, robust in its distinctiveness but not so course as to offend her mouth. She inhaled once through her mouth and exhaled after a slight pause, the weight of the hour threatening to keep her eyelids shut, the effort to open them seeming slightly monumental, were it not for the woman she knew was sitting across from her.

“Yes, there are plenty of nights like this. The job has its glamorous moments, but there is a reason I rarely leave my room. I wouldn’t exactly be a good information broker if I didn’t look at the information I brokered, now would I?”

Traynor chuckled lightly over her coffee at the quip, both hands gripping the white porcelain to try and soak up the heat. When she was on-board the Normandy, she tried to keep her fingers as far away from the thin steel cups as possible, the heat all too intense through the metal. But with the porcelain, so plain in appearance but feeling so lavish in comparison to the Spartan life of the underway vessel, it felt absolutely silky under her fingers.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Does glyph help much?”

“He does what he can, and goddess knows I wouldn’t be able to handle all the information on my own. But, he is only a VI, and I must make all of the decisions myself.”

“Hmm…”

 The conversation died as softly as it had started as steam from the two hot drinks mingled in the air above, dancing together to become one long wisp in the still air. Traynor stared over Liara’s shoulder, her eyes stealing glances back at her friend’s elegant jaw and soft blue skin, darting back to the scene before her whenever she thought liara might look back. Liara took another sip of her tea before turning around to appraise the same.

Shepard and Tali had retired to their master bedroom early, something about a decom cycle, and hadn’t been seen since. While Traynor felt slightly cheated on Liara’s behalf that they should leave so early when Liara was the one who was up in the small hours of the night doing the data analysis, she could also recognize that Liara was not the one who got shot at today, and was also the one who volunteered to do this.

James and Garrus were asleep on the couches outside of the master bedroom, both with a loaded rifle next to them. Both had stayed up as long as physically possible, their eyes physically drooping and their heads falling before Edi had insisted that they sleep to “maintain their combat effectiveness”. And so the two soldiers were begrudgingnly put to bed, mumbling things about “mercenary watch” and “set a record of 10 minutes without bullets” before both were making as loud of a snoring noise as possible. Liara suspected Garrus saw a young Shepard in James, and she couldn’t disagree. With a little more bravado and a little less experience respectively, she suspected the two would be remarkably similar. _It’s no wonder Garrus and James spend three hours exchanging war stories every day over target practice. James may want everybody to think he’s a blunt instrument, but few could challenge Garrus so much for marksmanship_.

Wrex had lumbered his way up the stairs to the landing and fallen asleep directly next to the stairs, rumbling about a pile of rubble he had as a kid and the bliss of a “flat bed to rest your crest on”. The Krogan, remarkably, didn’t snore at all, and curled up in a way which seemed to be a cross between a fetal position and a turtle hiding in its shell. It might even have been considered cute, were it not for the combat shotgun clutched with a vice grip to the warlord’s chest.

Edi and Joker had taken the upstairs bedroom, throwing some hasty excuse about “easily accessible bathrooms” and “high speed data ports”. Samantha even thought some of the crew was starting to buy it, before they all turned around and giggled and gossiped to each other about the pair as soon as they suspected they were asleep.

Which, all in all, left Liara and Traynor, sitting across from each other, in an all but empty, sleeping apartment. It hadn’te scaped either that they were alone together for the first time since this morning, the frantic call and pick-up interrupting what was the most interesting lecture on sub-luminal alliance communication encryption protocols (at least, according to Liara she had never heard one so enjoyable) and the pace of the day preventing any time together since.

Liara was the first to stand up, walking over to the window while holding her tea, stopping inches from the glass to stare out on the unsleeping freeway below. Hovercars sped by with physically impossible sound, the microspeakers in the glass doing a convincing job of imitating the sound of their drive in a standard atmosphere. The neon lights still flashed as the station which never slept maintainted its pace of life, trillions of minds and lives coexisting in a nexus of urban activity. Traynor stood next to Liara, taking a sip from her coffee as she too stared at the cars below.

Samantha could think of little but the Asari which was next to her, her entire escence oriented to her left to the beautiful – _We told ourselves, Sam, stop using that word_ – resilient – _Another dangerous one Sam…_ \- and dreamy – _okay, now that is crossing a line –_ Asari standing besides her. In traynor’s mind, a thousand scenario’s were playing out, with everything from gently grabbed hands to passionate kisses, ending in everything from a future which Samantha dared not consider to rejection which she dare not imagine. She stole glances when she felt safe, watching the tired Asari sip at her tea, marveling at the shape of her nose, her crest, her lips; wondering what fantastic thoughts must be taking place behind those delicately closed eyelids. When she thought Liara was about to look up, Samantha frantically looked outside as quickly as she could, trying to pretend that she was looking contemplatively at the environment outside, like her mind was not entirely consumed by the woman next to her, unaware that Liara was playing the same cat and mouse game with her own feelings.

Liara broke the silence first.

“It occurs to me, Sam, that we should be going to sleep soon.”

“Can you be away from your data for that long?”

“Glyph can do an adequate job from here, and I doubt I will be of much use to the crew in this state.”

“Well… there’s only one bed left.”

“Yes, I was thinking about that…”

Both women could feel their pulses quicken, their breaths pause, liara as she considered how to propose what she had in mind in a way that let her still deny her intentions, traynor to see if Liara was about to suggest what she desperately wished she would.

“It occurs to me, we’re good friends. The bed is large enough for two people easily, and as I recall we’ve already fallen asleep on a couch together. So, unless you have a problem with it, I was thinking…”

“That’d be fine with me!”

Traynor’s response was blurted out in what felt like a yell amidst the empty apartment, Traynor’s eyes seeming frantic to Liara, who was surprised but pleasantly so.

“Wonderful… I’ll go get… ready for bed.”

“Yes, me too!”

Both women downed the rest of their beverages as if it were a shot of Ryncol, their hearts pouding in their chests as they retreated to separate sinks to brush their teeth. Traynor walked into the room gingerly, painfully aware of the lack of her working uniform, the tight protectiveness of the thick military fabric replaced by the light exposure of Samantha’s robin-egg’s blue pajamas. Liara stepped into the room with the same timidness, aware of the lack of kinetoreactive fabric and long researcher’s coat for her mint green pants and white undershirt. The moment both women saw each other, their jaws tightened noticeably as they forced their walks to seem as confident as they could muster, strolling to the bed and attempting to climb in as if there was no bubbling cauldron of denied and unrecognized feeling in the pit of both stomachs.

“Well… goodnight Samantha.”

“Goodnight, Liara.”

Both turned off their respective bedside lights before very deliberately sleeping facing opposite directions, disregarding every instinct of their body mind and heart to push themesleves as far apart to the edges of the bed as possible.

0320, Shepard’s Apartment

Liara awoke to a gentle heat on her shoulder, accompanied by a pleasant weight around her midsection and a soft tickle on her neck. The flushing of the toilet upstairs and grumbling of who could only be Wrex explainer her waking up, but what it didn’t explain was the feeling in front of her. Warmth, emanating from a very soft body, an arm around her, and her arm, the one towards the bed, entirely asleep itself.

_Why is… oh… oh my_

Upon the realization Liara, unlike in her hotel room earlier, smiled pleasantly, still too far asleep to take much notice of the implications of such a position. She and Traynor had both turned towards each other, and were holding onto each other, cuddling to each-other in equal amounts, Traynor’s soft breath indicating she was still plenty sound asleep.

Liara nestled her head back down, mind pleasantly musing as she fell back asleep to the pleasant warmth next to her.

_It’s okay, Liara, friends cuddle like this. All the time in fact. Just two friends, sharing a bed together cuddling… in a completely platonic way… yes. Absolutely._

The rest of the night were pleasant dreams and deep sleep for both war weary and exhausted women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm finally on break. Only one semester left of university, which absolutely blows my mind. I know my updates have been few and far between, needless to say the final year of a Mechanical Engineering degree does not exactly leave a lot of time for fanfiction writing. But, I'm on break now, and it's my intention to, over the next month, take us through at the very least the Citadel DLC, if not further. 
> 
> I've been getting a few comments, and i've loved every single one of them. I cannot tell you how much of a bright spot in my day those are, hwo much they help to keep me interested and keep me going thinking and drafting story ideas even when life gets crazy. I love knowing that you guys are reading, and enjoying what you're reading. 
> 
> We'll see what direction this story goes... Chances are shorter chapters (sorry), hopefully a little bit more frequently (probably not as frequent as when I started (was that really over two years ago, how time flies!(Who loves imbedded parentheses(hint, it's me)))but still pretty frequent). So, we'll see. 
> 
> Either way, hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to leave me a comment letting me know what you think, good or bad! Cheers!


	18. Citadel Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali and John continue to take some much needed R&R time on the Citadel.

Shepard’s Apartment, 1930 Hours

A small tinkling of glasses came from the bar as Liara filled up a tray of drinks – Whiskey for Joker and Shepard, a small shot of Tequila for James, Turian Brandy for Garrus and Tali, various drinks for the rest of the crew, and a small steaming cup of tea for herself with another for Traynor. She picked the tray up gingerly, walking around the fireplace to an image of crowded exhaustion.

Armor was sprawled around the apartment, each member of the team taking it off as they walked in and all but a few leaving it where it lay (Kaidan and Liara had rather tidily set their armor in a neat stack by the door). Around the living room, her friends were sprawled in various stages of undress and exhaustion. Tali and Shepard were collapsed against each-other at the edge of one the couch which faced the fire, Joker sat next to them with EDI on the ground in front of him, an auxiliary maintenance port on the top of her head opened as he repaired her and cursed “Those Shepard-cloning ham-fisted bastards”. Kaidan was next to him, leaning forwards as he massaged his temples, bags under his eyes indicative of the heavy biotics he had just employed. The other couch held Garrus, leaning back into the corner resting  his head back; Javik next to him with a distant, fatigued look in his eyes. Traynor was at the edge of the couch, a small space between her and Javik left for Liara (too small for her to sit without the two practically sitting on top of each other, but Traynor wasn’t going to leave and neither of them were about to point that out). Finally, James and Wrex had seen fit to move the large couch from the other room, planting it at the final side, completing the horseshoe pattern, and were currently spread out on it, both lying down, James holding an ice pack against his head where a CAT6 merc had seen fit to plant his rifle butt. 

Liara walked into the circle, setting the tray of drinks onto the table, to a few nods, grunts, and various other tired expressions of thanks. Shepard spoke after a moment, his voice friendly, but clearly exhausted.

“Well, this is an excitable bunch. James, I think this is the least excited I’ve seen you to have a shot of Tequila in front of you.”

James groaned as he sat up and leaned forwards, clad in his hard-suit sans armor plates. He picked up the shot and threw it back, wincing slightly before leaning back and laying down, his voice quiet, tired.

“You know, loco, normally I would be. But, I think first I need to get over that fight with… well, you.”

Garrus chuckled from across the room, speaking up while he grabbed his small glass of Brandy and took a sip.

“Yeah, Shepard, I think we all got the worst kind of answer to the old ‘who would win in a fight’ question.”

“Come on, Garrus, it wasn’t just my clone. He did have an army of angry brigands.”

Traynor piped up, sitting forwards as Liara squeezed into the seat between her and Javik, much to her pleasure and Javik’s discomfort.

“Commander, did you just call them ‘Brigands’? That seems a bit mild given that they were trying to kill us.”

Shepard sheepishly looked down, mumbling something about “Couldn’t remember the word.” Exhausted silence fell over the group again as they all stared at their drinks. Wrex spoke up this time.

“I don’t seem to remember it hurting this much, in the old days. Hell, back in my younger days I’d get in any fight I could just for fun. I’ve become an old pyjack, that’s for sure.”

Tali spoke.

“Come on, Wrex, it’s not that bad. At least there weren’t any Geth this time.”

The comment received widespread groans from the entire group, Shepard and Garrus chuckling over it. Garrus responded, his subharmonics low with amusement.

“I don’t know how, but every time we have to save the galaxy, I swear those damned lightbulbs are involved.”

Javik interjected. “An enemy must never be allowed to retaliate. Wipe them out, entirely.”

An awkward silence hung, nobody looking each other after the comment. Slowly the entire crew sunk into the couches, various members falling asleep at various points. Wrex started snoring first, his head back in his shell as his feet hung off the couch in an odd sense of house manners. Liara and traynor were curled onto each-other, both having fallen asleep with their heads carefully laid straight back but eventually turning to cuddle. Joker was lying straight back, Edi lying as if dead on the ground as her body went into stand-by mode.

At the edge of the couch, Shepard was holding Tali as she was curled up in his arm, snoring deeply as a small amount of drool ran down his face. Tali’s helmet was dark as it engaged auto-night protocols, a special visor-darkening protocol to assist sleep on never-dark starships. Eventually she stirred, looking up and around as the clock in the upper right of her HUD flashed at her an hour her eyes were slightly too bleary to understand. She looked at John, his stubble rubbing like steel wool against the top of her helmet as he felt her stir, moving slowly in his sleep and resting his hand on her head, pushing her back into his chest. She giggled, though she was barely awake enough to do that, nudging him slightly in the ribs until he woke up, blinking two dozen times as his eyes looked around the room confusedly.

“Tali? Why is everybody here? Why aren’t we in bed? I’ve got to get back to the Normandy, Hackett needs…”

Shepard drifted back to sleep before he could finish his sentence, a soft snore replacing whatever task Hackett needed him to complete. Tali giggled as she watched his head roll back, the great Commander Shepard being taken down by a long day of fighting. She slowly stood up, careful not to disturb Joker or the rest of the room, nudging Shepard again before pulling him up off the couch. He was awake enough to locomote this time – but that was about it. It was a slow shuffle from the couch up the stairs to the bedroom, Shepard mumbling incoherent concerns and thoughts to Tali as she dragged him with her.

The door to their bedroom shut behind them automatically, the lights coming up immediately afterwards. Shepard shielded his eyes but slowly woke up, the loud purr of the sterilization system helping to bring him to a level of consciousness that was at least somewhat conversation capable.

“How long have we been sleeping, tali?”

Tali was in the closet, removing the armored components of her suit as she waited for the decom cycle to finish.

“About 3 hours, by my count. I don’t really remember falling asleep. I was just so tired after everything that’s happened today.”

Shepard laughed, following her into the closet as he removed his undersuit as well. With the soft chime of the decom cycle, Tali removed her suit entirely, the two going through their bed routine as they talked before crawling into bed.

“Tell me about it. I figure we’ve been going straight at it since about 1900 last night when we left for that party… that’s a long day if you ask me. Broke into a casino, broke into the citadel records, broke into the Normandy…”

“For somebody who operates on behalf of the council, you sure do break into a lot of places.”

“Good thing I’ve got Spectre status on my side. Better, still have it.”

“So you called the council to have them revert the records?”

“Yeah. Apparently they already knew that a clone of me was around… the other Shepard’s body landed in a street – freaked quite a few people out.”

“A dead hero of the citadel in N7 armor falling from The Normandy, I can only imagine…”

“This whole thing has been a trip, to put it lightly.”

“Yeah.”

Shepard lifted the covers, the two crawling into bed together, the lights everywhere else in the apartment automatically dimming as they did so.

“I don’t really sound like that, do I?”

“Sound like what, John?”

“The whole ‘I should go’ thing?”

“You’re still thinking about that?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve realized I say it a lot… unusually so even. I don’t sound that bad when I say it, though, right?”

“Given the fact that you’re not trying to steal somebody’s identity and be a vindictive bosh’tet, no.”

Shepard’s head hit the pillow with a satisfying “Thwump”, his breath immediately becoming deeper, more relaxed the moment he did.

“Good, good… that’d be unfortunate for all of us…”

Shortly his breath devolved into snoring, causing Tali to laugh as she cuddled up behind him, her arms being just barely long enough to snake around him. She spoke softly as she relished the suit-free feeling of both his body heat and the sheets.

“Something like that, love. Something like that.”

Shepard’s Cabin, 0730 Hours

The alarm went off with piercing clarity, a slight tinkling of bells and bird-like electronic noises, efficient to waking but far from obnoxious. While military alarms were notoriously harsh – a small step from the 300 year old Claxon’s from World War 2 – Shepard had found during ICT that a much more gentle alarm was far more effective for him. Thus, the small black box playing pleasant music on his bedside table had accompanied the commander through ICT clear to the Reaper Wars, often an odd departure from the harshness and metallic nature of military hardware.

Slowly, the commander began to wake up, opening his eyes as he looked at the time, the small pressure of fatigure behind his eyes evaporating as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

_Another day, another chance. Alright, John, what do you have today. You spent most of yesterday fighting yourself off from stealing the Normandy, and that’s not even the weirdest thing you’ve done in this war so far. So, what’ll it be today? Well, I probably should go talk to CSEC, make sure that the rest of the PII wasn’t compromised by that clone, then the Hanar Transport authority about their…_

“Stop it, John.”

Shepard was roused from his thoughts, finding that he had automatically lifted the sheets and was sitting off the side of the bed, his head bowed as he considered the agenda for his today. Tali’s voice came from behind him, a perfect balance between sleepiness, love, and bemusement as she turned over to look at him, her fluorescent eyes glowing with a groggily loving look.

John looked over his shoulder, curiosity furrowing his brow as he spoke through a yawn.

“Stop what?”

“Stop acting like you’re still on-duty. We’re on shore leave, remember?”

John laughed, going to stand up before Tali – with remarkable speed – flung an arm around his jaw and neck and threw him back into bed, moving across the bed to lay her head on his shoulder, a leg thrown across his.

“Tali, the Reapers don’t take shore leave. There are critical projects I…”

“Oh no, you’re not using that excuse this time, John Shepard. We both know full well that Hackett has people in place to manage the war effort while you take some rest time. The Reapers may not need it, but you do. Besides, you promised that after the incident with your clone, you’d slow down for a bit.”

Tali rested her hand on John’s chest, softly and slowly stroking it as she looked up at him, her best faux-pout put on just to add to the theatrics. She felt his chest rise and vibrate as he gave in, throwing an arm underneath and around her as he kissed her on the forehead, his eyes glowing with loving admiration for the woman next to him as she pulled the covers even higher, just barely beneath their chins.

“You know I can’t resist that face.”

“I do, that’s why I use it!”

They both laughed as the warmth underneath the covers consumed what air-conditioned air had been let in when John sat up. John was the first to speak after a few moments.

“So, Ms. Vas Normandy, what would you do today, this first day of real Shore Leave.”

“Well, I think first we should eat breakfast…” Tali’s speech took on a playful air as she smiled at Shepard while planning the day, each item on her tentative itinerary punctuated with a small touch on his nose which made him giggle every time. “… then walk around the wards a bit. There’s a dextro/levo restaurant – one we haven’t already tried – that just opened on the Presidium which I’d like to try out. Then there’s a Music Club over in the Tayseri Ward which I want to try.”

“Alright. I also need to get to a arms store, my sniper rifle needs a few upgrades. Oh, and I told Commander Bailey I’d meet him this week for…”

“Shepard…”

“What?”

Tali’s eyes looked into his with an expression which was primarily jovial in its accusatory glare, but only primarily.

“You’re doing it again. No work, remember?”

“But, Tali, I need to get at least a few things done. First of all, I’ll go stir-crazy otherwise, second of all somebody has to keep this war effort going, even through shore leave.”

“John Shepard you have done enough to lead this war effort, for now. I’ve seen how tired you are on duty, how late you stay up and how early you rise. I’ve seen the coffee cups and breakfast bars and straight refusal to rest. You’ll end up back out there again anyways. For now, just enjoy this. Doing nothing. Just relaxing. Promise me? No work.”

A moment passed while shepard considered the proposal and request.

“Alright, fine. No work.”

Tayseri Ward, 1300 Hours

While a far step from the impeccable sky on the Presidium, the simulated blue sky of the park in Tayseri was pleasant nonetheless. Pixelated, stylized clouds drifted lazily across the dome as a pleasant heat was blown in through unknown air vents high above, the breeze they caused completing the suspended illusion of being outside. Children ran and played inside of the play-structure within the dome, pedestrians and parents walking and sitting in the benches and paths around. The entire park was approximately 50 meters in diameter, a dome nestled in the residential parts of the ward, a small but often needed respite from the sometimes oppressively cosmopolitan air of the station’s constantly flashing fluorescent advertisements and highways.

Shepard and Tali walked in through the auto-opening entrance, an ice cream cone in John’s hand and a bag of the closest thing they could find for Quarians in Tali’s, a long tube drawing it up to the primary food induction port underneath her helmet. John was laughing with a brilliant smile the likes of which Tali had rarely seen since Earth had fallen, and against the backdrop of the “outside” park and the comfortable green T-shirt he was wearing, it almost seemed to erase the spectre of war and destruction which loomed around every moment.

The two walked lackadaisically down the circular avenue surrounding the park, a low line of hedge bushes of unknown variety (supposedly from Thessia, though neither Shepard nor Tali knew nor really cared enough to ask) lined the inside of the ring, acting as a practical barrier to contain the laughter and raucous games confined to the inside of the park.

“The band was… interesting…”

“Bad, John, it was bad. You can say it.”

“Okay, yeah, that was pretty much abysmal.”

“I don’t know who thought a band with a hanar lead singer would be a good idea, but whoever it is clearly has no ears.”

“I don’t know, I thought ‘With much Angst: I just don’t care’ was an interesting composition.”

“Interesting is one word for it…”

The two walked through an entrance into the inner park, sitting on some of the benches inside, watching the children play while birds swooped and dove above, an aerobatic ballet of chaotic harmony. They both stopped to gaze for a moment, basking in the heat and the moment, before Shepard broke the silence, speaking while letting his head roll back, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the smell of the near-outdoor air.

“You know, I never thought I’d get to enjoy any sort of shore leave like this again.”

Tali looked at John with perplexed eyes, her full expression hidden behind the tint of her visor, but the shape of her eyes visible and prevalent enough for John to know what look he was getting nonetheless. He opened his right eye, looking at her before chuckling slightly, rolling his head back again and sighing deeply before continuing.

“The thing is, Tali, I’m an N7. From day one we’re told that there’s no such thing as peace time. When the rest of the Alliance is at peace, we’re behind the scenes keeping it that way. When the Alliance is at war, we’re ahead of the frontlines making sure we win. Shore leave is simply preparation time before you’re deployed next, and deployment is where you belong. They don’t always say it, but it’s there… in the attitudes, the jokes, the culture. From day one out of ICT, I’ve been convinced that this job was my life, that all I’d ever be was Lieutenant Johnathan Shepard, N7 Operative. I even went so far as to throw out all but 2 civilian outfits, convinced I’d never need them.”

Tali lay her head back too, matching John’s gaze pu at the sky, noticing the subtle pinks and greens which were interwoven with the light blue for the Citadel’s Earth-Cycle. John continued talking.

“When I became a Spectre, that was only compounded. Now, not only was I an Alliance operative, but I was now a Council peace-keeper, whose job was most busy when everybody else thought that things were quiet and going well, the damping force behind the scenes maintaining the balance. Then Saren, the Reapers, Cerberus, and then the Reapers but for real this time. By the time we left Earth, I’d become convinced that my first opportunity to really relax would be on my death bed.”

“And then?”

Shepard picked his head up, a beaming smile turned towards Tali as he answered.

“And then, some Quarian came and made me fall in love with her, and the rest is history.”

Tali smiled under her mask, flicking her hand and slapping John playfully in the chest. He flinched a little,but her laughter was infectious.

“That was terrible, John. Not even omni-cards are that bad.”

“What can I say, I’m shameless.”

The two continued laughing, Shepard having grabbed Tali’s hand and pulled her closer to him, his arm now around her shoulders as she rester her helmet back, taking pleasure in the solid feeling of his arm behind her, even if she couldn’t feel his skin or body heat. Their laughter died away as the two enjoyed the feeling of being close to each other. Tali spoke.

“I think I understand what you mean, though. In the Flotilla, keeping the fleet functioning and running is almost your only job. Everything you do is for the Flotilla, from the pilgrimage to everything afterwards. And it only gets worse once you’re an Admiral. When people start looking to you for direction… well, there aren’t any days off from that. Even if I wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t going to stop until I died, I certainly didn’t think I’d get a chance to relax like this. Not now, not in the middle of this war.”

A comfortable quiet fell for a few heartbeats.

“I have to say, it’s rather nice.”

Tali looked at John, surprise now widening her eyes slightly as she did.

“Really? Says the man who didn’t want to take a break this morning because the war effort waits for nobody?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still would like to have gotten some things done for the war effort today. But taking a break from it all, giving ourselves time to rest, recharge… it’s nice. Needed.”

“I’m glad you finally saw reason.”

“Let’s not go too far.”

“A quarrian can dream…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I know it's been a while since I updated this story. There's a long story behind that, but the short version is: My life is a lot busier now, so finding time to write and develop stories and chapters and such is hard. Not only that, I just finished a big move, so that's taken up a lot of time too. But, I'm settling in and making time, so I hope you guys enjoy, and please leave comments!!!
> 
> The longer version of the story basically entails the same stuff, but also adds in that, in the course of the move, I somehow lost most of my save files. So writing is going to be a bit delayed while I play my way back to where this story is. Not only that, I'm working roughly 10-12 hour days on average now, 5 days a week with a 6th, 4 hour day. So, I'm not exaggerating when I say that my life has gotten a lot busier. Not only does this mean I have less time to actually write, it's harder to find time to play the games and get story ideas fully developed and ready for chapters. But I like this story enough, and I enjoy writing enough, that I'm not about to let a busy schedule kill it. I know this chapter was pretty fluffy - almost too much so, if you ask me - but I'm getting back into the swing of (a) writing and (b) writing Tali and John, so bear with me. We'll probably leave the Citadel next chapter and then keep progressing the plot. Any ideas,please comment. Any constructive criticism - I love hearing it, please comment. If you liked it? Leave Kudos or comment. I'm not above admitting that I get super happy when I get comments and Kudos, and they certainly help to keep me motivated to find the time to write. Thanks, and hope you guys enjoy!!!


	19. Citadel Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard and Tali go out for a night of Dancing. Liara and Traynor have the same idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, this one I felt like I actually found somewhat of a groove on! I'm still trying to treat the Liara/Traynor pairing I have with appropriate delicacy, I really like it, and really want you guys too! So, I figured it was finally time they moved things along a bit. Also, I totally wanted to write these characters going to a WW2 style club. In my mind, there are a lot of similarities between WW2 and the Reaper wars. 
> 
> As always, I love comments! especially as my life is changing, I really need your guys' comments as input and motivation to keep going, or not if that's what you want. Everything from compliments to criticism, or even just a quick "I love this fic", I love receiving. I'll admit that i've been having trouble finding the time and motivation to write, but getting feedback from you guys always makes it easier. Kudos are also widely appreciated. 
> 
> Enjoy!!!

Shepard’s Apartment, 1930

“Shepard! How was your workout?”

Tali stood up from the weapons bench in the oversized bedroom in the apartment, pieces of a shotgun lying disassembled on the table before her. Shepard was standing in the doorway, sweat dripping off the tip of his nose, his shirtless torso glistening under the lights of the room - Tali’s eyes lingered for longer than normal. The downstairs bedroom had been turned into Shepard’s personal gym, years of military and N7 training dictating that, no matter how relaxed he was, he could never afford to give his body a chance to rebelliously atrophe. Not that Tali was complaining, certainly not as she watched the way his torso moved as he walked into the room, still out of breath.

“Good, good. Think I’m getting a little weaker, but that’s what shore leave is for, isn’t it?”

A slightly nervous laugh came from behind the mask and glowing disk of Tali’s helmet. Shepard walked into the room, throwing his workout towel onto the bed before stripping down, unaware of the avid observer he had directly behind him watching his every move. He turned the shower on, stepping into it as he talked to Tali, running the shampoo through his hair and relishing in the consistently hot water – such a nice relief from the Spartan conditions of even the newest military starships.

“So… what do you want to do for the rest of the evening?”

“I don’t know. I’m as free as the dust on the solar wind.”

“You’re what?”

“Have I still not shown you that vid?”

“What vid?”

“Remind me, next time I say that, to show it to you. It’s essentially the movie of my adolescence.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. The question still stands, what to do tonight.”

“Hmmm, let me see.”

Tali pulled up her omnitool, swiping through popular locations and activities nearby as Shepard finished with the Shower. While Shepard toweled off and stepped into the closet, Tali found a particularly interesting entry.

“It says here there’s a particularly popular bar location nearby! Looks like it’s within walking distance, on the other side of silverspun.”

“Oh? And what makes this so popular?”

“Well…” more omnitool scrolling “it looks like its favored by a lot of soldiers back for shore leave, says it has a ‘Human 20th Century’ theme to it, whatever that means. Food is rated well… they serve dextro and levo… and looks like drinks are half off tonight.”

Shepard had walked out of the closet and perched himself on the bed, looking over Tali’s shoulder at the entry, his eyes quickly scanning back and forth over the text and pictures.

“Well, half off drinks and a bunch of soldiers? What could possibly go wrong?”

Tali rolled her eyes, standing up to lean herself on the doorway while watching Shepard, the Spectre now sorting through his clothes to pull out his liberty uniform.

“I have absolutely no idea. Not like you would either.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Vas Normandy, I seem to remember there was a time on Illium when we were fighting the Collectors that you found yourself rather intoxicated as well.”

“That was an entirely scientific endeavor.”

“Oh really.”

“One hundred percent. I needed to see how my new suit breathalyzers were working. And the emergency inductor port.”

“That straw-looking thing?”

“It’s an emergency inductor port, John. We’ve been over this.”

“I still say it’s a Straw.”

“Well, when you design complex modifications to some of the most advanced envirosuit technology in the galaxy, you can call it whatever you want to.”

“Then it will be called a straw.”

Tali rolled her eyes again, deeper this time, and Shepard laughed at her exasperated sigh as she stood up and walked back over to the weapons bench, leaving John to fiddle with the belt of his liberty uniform.

Silversun Hotel, Room 3215, 2000 Hours

“Liara? Liaaarraaa?”

Traynor’s sing-song call sounded through the room as she knocked on the door, the layout now quite familiar as she let herself in. The room was, as always, in perfect order, Liara’s scant list of belongings neatly tucked away in every cabinet, closet, and shelf in the place. While Traynor herself appreciated a certain degree of cleanliness, she could not help but admire the disciplined spotlessness of the Asari’s living spaces at all times – _I guess you grow into that after a hundred._

Liara walked out from the bedroom, this time in pink sweatpants, a white silk shirt and, most notably, lime-green fuzzy slippers, smiling radiantly as she entered the room. Though seeing Liara in this state was becoming less and less uncommon for Samantha, it still took her by surprise to see the business-like, aloof, secretive Asari from the Normandy transformed into such a friendly, kind face. While on the one hand it made her wonder what her friend was like before the war, before shepard; it also brought to mind an image of Liara standing in the same outfit instructing galactic politicians how to maneuver their governments to avoid an intergalactic war. A snicker rose and was quickly suppressed.

“Samantha! How nice to see you!”

“You too, Liara. I like the slippers.”

“Thank-you. A gift from Tali, though I admit I do question her sense of color sometimes. They’re quite comfy, though. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to… you know… go somewhere?”

The effort it took to get the words out of her mouth clearly showed on Sam as her eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of concentration and confusion. Silence hung between the Asari and the Human for a heartbeat or two, but while it was only the time Liara needed to take a breath to make a response, Sam nonetheless heard the silence of centuries and barely gave Liara time to think about what had been asked before she continued.

“You see, there’s this cool club I found which supposedly has an Earth, 20th century theme to it. And, I don’t know if you know this, but I actually got a history minor in university, which means I know a decent amount about that time period. So, I’d really like to go, but nobody likes going to the club or even a restaurant by themselves, so I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

Liara smiled as Traynor continued as fast as her mouth could move, barely stopping herself from panting for being out of breath at the end of her plea. The asari’s smile broadened as Sam looked up, her eyes full of something roughly akin to a sad child asking for a treat.

“Of course, Sam, I’d love to come with you. Besides, I think I’ve figured out what you’re doing.”

Like a trapdoor Traynor’s heart plummeted at the words, her mind searching for what her heart already knew about just what exactly she was doing. With sweaty and shaking palms she wracked her brain for anything which Liara could find out, her conscious thought skipping over all the blue-tinted dreams and the times she woke up having accidentally fallen asleep on Liara.

“And… and what might that be?”

“You’ve done such a good job of trying to hide it, but I think I finally figured it out.”

Heartbeats hung in the air like helium balloons.

“You want me to be your… how do humans say, wingman?”

Sam’s brain missed a beat as her brain processed the unexpected word. While she didn’t know what word it was exactly that she was expecting, she knew for a fact that ‘wingman’ was not it. Her mouth opened and shut as she tried to piece together a response, a deep sense of regret filling her, despite her utter ignorance as to its cause. Laughing slightly at her friend’s apparent confusion Liara continued.

“I know humans have a custom of taking a friend with them to a bar to find a… companion, for the night. If I am made to understand correctly, this is usually somebody that they’re quite close to, their best friend. And yes, Sam, I would love to be your wingman.”

As Liara continued Traynor got a hold of her senses, reigning in her flapping mouth and pulling her brain back to the domain of comprehensible, conscious thought. As she spoke, the anticipation which had turned to disappointment transformed again into frustration and she found herself trying not to let her voice slip to aggression/

“You know, Liara, I wasn’t going to ask that. Truth be told, I’m not really looking to pick just anybody up tonight, but thank-you for the offer. Would you still be open to come as a friend?”

It was now Liara’s turn to furrow her brows and squint at Traynor as though examining a specimen. It was clear from the movement of her eyes that the destruction of her assumed solution to Traynor’s recent behavior was puzzling to her to put it mildly. While still struggling to reconcile all the observed instances she could remember – the seats too small, the conversations too long, the pleasant nights continuing clear to morning and the times waking up having accidentally fallen asleep with her friend – she still managed a response.

“I would be… glad to do so. Give me a minute to go get dressed then we can leave immediately.”

Excerpt from “ _Alliance Uniforms in the Reaper Wars”_ , Page 273

Due to the capture of Earth during the initial Reaper attack, it became necessary for the Alliance Military to relocate their recruit training facilities from Earth, for obvious reasons. Their location of choice ended up being a set of empty lots on the tip of the Citadel arms, in Zakera ward. While they had already located “Gunner’s Mate A-School” on the ward, this was a facility designed to handle 3,000 personnel a year, rather than the 3,000,000 recruits gained during the war. As such, the “Alliance Recruit Training Command, Citadel” was formed.

With the large influx of Alliance service members, often with little more than the clothes on their back and a will to fight, the alliance felt it necessary to develop a “Liberty Uniform” – a uniform neither as formal as the Alliance Class Alpha Dress Uniform nor as militarized and Rugged as the standard Star Ship Service Uniform. The Result, was the Alliance Class Bravo Dress Uniform, colloquially known as the “Liberty Jacket”.

This uniform utilized the same trousers and shoes as the Alpha’s, however the jacket was changed to be both more comfortable and less formal. It was a waist-length coat, being fastened around the waist by a large belt similar to the Service Uniform’s. The side panels were made of black, elastic material for wearer comfort, and the front and back panel were made of standard Alliance Twill blue fabric. It was closed via 3 internal closure magnets, and sported the symbol of either the Alliance Navy or Alliance Marine Corps on the right breast. While the front panel was to be worn closed by regulation, service members commonly opened it in casual settings, such as social affairs and the barracks, to cool off. It had a stand-up collar, and was a long sleeve uniform, with no sleeve rolling authorized.

Rather than the standard Gold trim around the seams and for the logo, the alliance opted instead to utilize a cheaper slate grey fabric, giving the uniform a much more subdued appearance, deemed more fit for public socializing. Officers wore their rank on special grey shoulder boards, and enlisted service members sewed their rank onto the upper part of their sleeve, as on their Alphas. The uniform was worn with a black Beret, displaying the Systems Alliance Logo, but this was an often-omitted item, with service members claiming that “if [they] only had to wear it outside, then they should never wear it on the citadel, since the entire space station is inside.”

There were few variations on the basic uniform, but one notable modification was the addition of a red and white stripe down the white sleeve by the N7 corps, a change which – while never officially sanctioned nor allowed – was allowed to continue nonetheless.

This uniform was seen most commonly around ARTCC, with recruits often having no other clothes to wear besides their other uniforms. Closer to the presidium and Alliance Docks, the Service and Dress uniform was more common – service members often saving space by neglecting to pack the uniform. Furthermore, many service members took liberty where they could, often taking advantage of a 4-5 hour port call, and thus never taking the time to change into the appropriate liberty uniform.

Zakera Ward, _Coming Home_ (nightclub), 2100 Hours

The club was stuffed in one of the more crowded streets this part of the Citadel, sandwiched between two larger complexes, its doorway no wider than 10 feet and with no windows leading in. The brilliant blue holo sign which stuck into the street with the image of a classic pin-up girl underneath was almost lost amidst all the sound and light of a modern causeway. None of this reduced the popularity of the joint, however, the line of service members and their respective dates waiting to get in stretching so far down the lane that it was the other, larger establishments that tended to get lost behind the human wall of impatience, youthful enthusiasm, and frenetic compulsion to enjoy what could be the last moments on the Citadel.

Inside, a small hallway about 15 feet inside, windows of soldiers’ clubs from WW1 clear to the modern era lining the wall. The hallway opened up to reveal a large rectangular room, at least 50 feet deep and 40 wide with the hallway exiting in the bottom right corner. Immediately to the right of the exit was a classic bar, the counters made of polished glass over brushed aluminum, glasses hanging from modern post racks as the Turian, Human, and Asari bar tenders jumped left and right to accompany all the orders coming through the tenants. Young men and women scrambled over each-other, shoving and cajoling to present their credit-chits to the bar tenders, those sitting on the round post-stools getting pushed and manhandled by the throng, not maliciously but certainly without much consideration for their well-being.

The neons from the bar shone onto the polished black floor as the room transitioned to the table-seating area, approximately 20 round tables of varying sizes positioned around the small space. Bathed in a warm white light from lighted globes hung above, with red accent lights shining from the corners, patrons of every race and age could be seen laughing, eating, enjoying what looked like some wonderfully prepared food. Tables ranged from grizzled veterans, sitting more quietly than the rest swilling around old memories in their whisky glasses, to young recruits, boisterously bragging about their basic training exploits and the honors and glories they would seize when the reapers finally got ahold of them. The din was nearly deafening, every person screaming to be heard over the next, but the broad smiles and boisterous laughs gave the tumultuous sound a wholesome air of, if not happiness, at the very least excitement and friendship.

Beyond the tables was the dance floor, wide and covered in what looked like actual wood, a rarity on the Citadel. The band-stand was right next to the dancefloor, and on it an odd fusion of earth 20th century instruments and citadel races serenated the space with swing music. There were Turians on the upright base and guitar; Asari on the piano, a clarinet, a saxophone, and two trombones; Humans on trumpet and the remaining winds; and a very energetic Hanar skillfully playing the drums. They wailed on big band classics, their interpretations far from straight reproductions, but the energy and atmosphere of the century long past being brought nonetheless to this space station club. Patrons stood in groups of two to ten around the tables, conversing and

Throngs of people danced and undulated on the dance floor, some swinging as they had seen in videos, others skilled in the dance, and others just moving as the music seemed to compel them to. It was a great mixing pot, even more so than the tables, as dancers trading partners beamed at complete strangers as they all sought to escape the war which raged outside. Alliance soldiers danced with Asari commandos, Turians two-stepped with Batarians.

Lining the walls of the club was additional seating, small booths with dividers between them where the more reserved guests could find their seats. The constituency here was slightly older than the rest of the club, though largely no different than the rest of the club: soldiers and survivors looking for solace amidst the sundering of the galaxy. But instead of yelling at each other across the table they leaned towards each other, conversations in confidence staying so even with the volume. They watched the dancefloor with interest and bemused smiles, memories of their own dancing supplanting the people in front of them, memories moving and swaying with the melodies as they once had themselves.

The effect was not lost on Shepard and Tali as they walked in, Shepard sporting the subdued blues and greys of the Liberty uniform that many of the other soldiers in the joint were wearing, the red and white stripe on his arm getting a few raised eyebrows and hasty salutes as he and Tali walked towards the bar. They managed to find two tables, the combination of a Quarian (of whom she was one of five among the roughly 150 people inside) and an N7 quickly garnering enough respect and curiosity to win them a couple of stools. Drinks soon in hand, Tali and John turned and watched the spectacle before them from the bar.

“Well, Tali, this place certainly doesn’t lack for interest.”

“You’re telling me you don’t like it?”

John laughed. “Not at all, I think it’s great. I just never thought I’d hear swing music in a Citadel club, that’s all.”

“Is that what this is? I’ve never heard it before, but I think I like it.”

“Yeah. Some people just call it classical, but really it’s swing. Big Band, if you wanted to get picky. My dad used to play it on the freighter. He had learned the clarinet for long space journeys, said it kept some of the deep-space restlessness away. Ultimately, there wasn’t much music to play from the modern era, so he bought a big book of Benny Goodman songs and just let them wail.”

“I never knew that, John. Is that why you picked up the piano?”

“Not quite, but it’s probably why I was open to it.”

The piano player in the background jumped into a particularly aggressive lick as Tali spoke, both she and John looking up to watch as they heard the army of notes march up and back down the keyboard in melodious order.

“So, can you play that?”

“That? Sadly, no. I might have had time on deployments, but not that much time.”

“I’ll bet you could if you tried.”

The two watched as the band played, the musicians making eye contact with one another as the song pushed forwards with high-tempo energy. Tali spoke first.

“This is nice to see. Everybody relaxing for a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s something that Quarians aren’t too good at. We’re always worried about something – which ship is going to fall apart next, where to get our next load of supplies, where to go on pilgrimage, even who married who on the ship, that we forget to just… relax, sometimes. It’s nice to see everybody taking some time before heading back out there.”

John smiled, finishing his drink in one last swig, before placing it down on the bar, standing up and grasping Tali’s arm. She looked at him, her eyes growing slightly with surprise as he beamed at her. It was a sight which she was not as used to as she’d like – her N7 outfitted in his dashing blue and black uniform, smiling down at her in an expression of absolute and utter enjoyment. _Someday, after the war, this will be the norm, not the surprise._ John walked Tali out, through the tables, a few service members recognizing the two as they walked, standing up, reaching out to give the legendary commander a reverent slap on the back, until they were both on the entrance to the dance floor. He put an arm around her waist, another gripping her hand and holding it mid-way up their bodies.

“Well, then let’s make sure this Quarian remembers.”

With that they started moving to the music, Shepard’s steps and movements at first foreign to Tali but quickly something she could respond to, at least somewhat gracefully. They moved into the crowd, getting lost in the sea of blue and black jackets, smiles seeking to forget the war for a night of loud music and good company, joining the masses dancing as the world fell apart.

Zakera Ward, _Coming Home_ (nightclub), 2130 Hours

“Well that wait was long enough.”

“Indeed. But by the sounds of it, well worth it.”

Sam and Liara walked into the club, Sam fiddling nervously with her uniform as Liara walked elegantly in her dress, the outside a deep iridescent purple, a center panel of a textured red-pink fabric running from the top of the high collar clear to the hem. She had kept her usual gloves, the tops reaching to the middle of her upper arm, but the dress was shorter than most of her formal wear, stopping mid-calf rather than full-length. While the change gave her a less formal appearance, it served practical purposes as well – The Shadow Broker being all too aware of the number of assassinations and fights which happen in nightclubs across the Citadel. A far ways from the naïve archeologist of years ago, or even the fledgling information broker on Illium, Liara now found herself fighting the compulsion to look over her shoulder, her eyes shrewdly squinting in each new room she entered as she identified its exits, entrances, and security systems. A subcompact pistol was strapped to her thigh.

For the large part, though, her newly developed near-paranoia rarely prevented her from enjoying herself, and this was no exception. Her face lit up at the loud din of laughter and joy, her foot tapping imperceptibly at the alien music which had such a strong rhythm and energy of life about it. Sam trailed behind her as the Asari slipped through the crowd as silk through fingers, elegantly swapping her credit chit for a small martini glass of a rainbow colored drink, a sip of which only broadened her smile. Sam was slightly lost among the crowd, the crowd of soldiers, sailors, and marines around the bar absorbing her in a sea of black, gold, and grey. Eventually, though, the Specialist pushed her way past and stood with Liara on the outside wall, watching the scene as they found one of the few cocktail tables distributed around the seating area and set their drinks down, leaning in to talk to each other.

“You said this is Earth Classical Music, Sam?”

“Yes. Well, no. Well… kind of. Technically classical is a few hundred years before this. But a lot of people don’t differentiate, so by most people’s definition, this is classical, yes.”

“I admit, I quite like the sound of it. It has a nice energy to it.”

Sam watched Liara as she listened, her cerulean eyes closed as her head bobbed softly to the clarinet solo which was flowing across the audience like a particularly energetic stream. Her elegant shoulders moved in the dress, shifting her entire form as small movements built into a miniscule dance, more an undulation than a full dance, but energetic and appreciative of the sounds nonetheless. Sam felt her stomach turn over as she watched, the low nerves which she had been feeling from the moment she knocked on Liara’s door returning in full force, filling her stomach with butterflies and gymnasts.

_Why on earth am I nervous? This is a nightclub, relax! Just, let loose._

_True. So do it._

_Do what?_

_Relax._

_I can’t._

_Why not?_

_Because… well, I don’t know. But I can’t._

_Perhaps this is an answer to the first question? Why you’re nervous._

_Shut up._

Liara opened her eyes, turning to look at Sam, who hastily took a sip of her drink before smiling broadly at the Asari, though the creases at her eyes spoke to the force it took to smile. A quizzical look came over T’soni’s face before she smiled at Sam, an earnest look of enjoyment and joy in her eyes that rarely graced them aboard the Normandy.

“Come on Sam, you look tense. I do believe that’s my job.”

“What, being tense? I’m not tense. I’m fine. Very relaxed.”

One of Liara’s eyebrows raised as the corner of her mouth curled up in unabashed amusement.

“Specialist Traynor, you are worse at lying than even The Commander. It doesn’t even take an information broker to know when you’re not telling the truth.”

Sam looked intently into Liara’s eyes, the raised eyebrows and challenging expression eating away at her resistance until she closed hers, laughing softly through her nose as she conceded with a hung head. Her lips curled up in a small smile as she looked up, Liara’s expression becoming even kinder and friendlier than before. Sam’s stomach did a few more somersaults for good measure.

“I know, Liara. I just… don’t know what has me so tense.”

“That is puzzling. Couldn’t be the entire galaxy burning under the threat of total extinction?”

Liara laughed as she spoke and Sam followed suit, but it soon became apparent that Traynor’s laugh was hollow, hiding deep thought and desperate introspection as she searched herself to figure out just why exactly she was tense.

Before her search could come to fruition, Liara walked forwards, grabbing her hand, sending electricity through her entire body. Startled, Sam looked up at Liara while her stomach went crazy and she found a slight haze invading her brain and obscuring her thoughts.

“Finish your drink, Sam. It’s impossible to stay tense when dancing.”

Smiling, almost uncontrollably, Traynor grabbed her glass and finished it all in one go, swept away by the Asari as soon as her glass was safely on the table. A change had thoroughly come over Liara, the normally reserved if not quiet Asari now energetic, excited, full of energy and enthusiasm. Quick steps took Liara and Samantha to the dance floor, where Liara stood on the side, eyes squinting as she watched the other dancers for 20 seconds before grabbing Traynor, putting both arms around her and perfectly mirroring the dance of the couple besides them.

“Wow, Liara, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody learn to dance so quickly.”

“It’s pattern recognition, a staple in both archeology and information brokering. Dancing is just a series of steps repeated with few variations. Identify the base steps, start with those, then add flourishes…”

To punctuate her sentence Liara grabbed Traynor, dipping the human deeply and holding her there before quickly bringing her back to her feet. A tingling sensation came over Traynor as she saw a slight mass effect field materialize around her, Liara’s motions effortless as Traynor dropped in mass. Samantha laughed as she was whirled back up, grabbing onto Liara again as the two continued dancing. Sam’s steps were clumsy, untrained, and while Liara’s were as well they were becoming competent much faster than Sam’s. On more than a few occasions Sam found herself tripping on her own feet or Liara’s, the Asari’s arms grasping her tighter to catch her fall. While she didn’t admit it to herself consciously, the feeling of Liara catching her was definitely a comforting one for her.

“I have to say, Liara, you seem much more… energetic, tonight.”

A quizzical look pulled an eyebrow up as Liara guided the two through a change-step to the newer, more energetic song behind them.

“How so?”

“Well, normally you’re… relaxed? No, that’s not right. Quiet? No… Composed. I guess that’s the best way I would describe it. And tonight you’re… well, I don’t want to say you’re not composed, you always are, you just are acting so…”

“Young?”

“That’s… not the word I would use to describe it, but…”

“It’s alright Sam, I know what you mean. I used to go to dance clubs a lot when I was younger, still in college. I stopped once I began working in the archaeology field, and there was never really time as an information broker. To be in one again, all the energy, all the joy, the music… it makes me feel at least 35 years younger, and I’m not even that old!”

A tinkling laugh from Liara lit up Traynor’s mind as she laughed too, the two continuing to dance as their feet got more and more experienced, Traynor’s trips and mistakes becoming less and less frequent. As a break in songs came Sam reached up, un-doing the top fastener of your jacket, the top corner of the closure panel folding down to reveal the lighter inner-lining, as much to make her seem more relaxed as to cool off.

“Is it ever weird for you?”

“Is what odd?”

“Being with humans who are so short lived when Asari live so long?”

Liara’s face darkened momentarily before an expression of thoughtfulness overtook the cloud. Her eyes squinted as she worked to put her response into the correct words, and after a few moments she responded.

“Not really, no. While, yes, Asari live longer than almost any species, we experience time in the same way as everybody else. Thus, while we may have more life, we live the same moments as you do, see the same things. An Asari at full maturity is much the same as a Human or Turian at full maturity, so while I may have more years behind me than you or Joker or Garrus, I am no more or less wisened. Though perhaps Joker was a bad example to use.”

Samantha smiled, the answer relieving some of the tension which she had felt at the beginning of the night as the two women gripped each other, swaying with the music as the hours of the night melted away.

Zakera Ward, _Coming Home_ (nightclub), 2330 Hours

“Liara?”

“Shepard?”

“Traynor?”

“Tali?”

The four looked at each-other, dumbstruck as they stood in front of the bar, four drinks being placed in shocked hands. The shock wore off quickly and the four walked over to the seating area, grabbing a seat as they sipped their drinks. Shepard spoke first.

“What brings you two here?”

Traynor looked at Liara, who was beaming, though her cheeks were more blue than usual as a combination of the alcohol and the exertion of dancing. It truly was as though a small transformation had come over the young Asari, and Traynor couldn’t help but smile whenever she saw it.

“Oh, you know Shepard, just wanted a night on the town. You two?”

Tali responded. “Same. Found this place on my omnitool, thought it would be fun to try.”

“Us as well!”

Quickly the conversation continued, Shepard talking to Traynor and Liara to Tali. Samantha and Traynor laughed at the club, finding out they both knew more about swing music than the average patron as they threw names and songs around, both lighting up with each new song the band played in a string of classics. While the two talked commonly, they knew each other more on a professional level than a deeper friend level, though many of those barriers were broken down through their conversation by common interest and social lubrication. They laughed at the new recruits that flooded the establishment, their high-and-tight haircuts and enthusiastic youthfulness, told stories of their own times gone by. Tali and Liara meanwhile caught up on what had happened since they had last seen each other, the three days since the battle with the clone keeping both apart by busy schedules and occasionally differing interests. They caught up quickly, leaning close to each other and laughing earnestly and pleasantly.

After some time, and with no intentional signal, they all simultaneously decided to switch partners, the seating arrangement changing quickly as Shepard moved to talk to Liara and Tali to Traynor. Tali and Traynor had interacted closely on quite a few projects, and were fond of each other, but their friendship was not nearly as deep as that between Tali and Liara. Nonetheless, they found there was plenty conversation in the easy-going environment of the night.

“So, Sam, what brings you out with Liara?”

“Oh, you know, just going for a night out…. As friends.”

Traynor added the last bit hastily, immediately mentally cursing herself for adding such an awkward annex to a perfectly fine statement. Tali picked up on the timing as well, an eyebrow raised silently inside her helmet, Samantha seeing the silhouette of one eye become slightly taller than the other.

“Oh really?”

“Honestly, Tali, I swear! I don’t have a lot of friends on the crew, and most of them are off doing more… drunken, activities. Liara’s nice to go out with, more level-headed, mature. I did most of my drinking in college, thank-you, no need to repeat that again.”

“Is that really all, Sam?”

Tali’s voice was laden with accusatory sarcasm, her helmet angering forward as she levelled Traynor with a shrouded glance which would be improved only by glasses seated at the bridge of her nose.

“Tali! Yes, it is! Of course it is!”

Traynor gave Tali a light slap as she smiled at the ludicrous suggestion and laughed nervously. The two continued talking, but as they did so Traynor’s mind began running in the background, an internal dialogue of which she was not aware beginning to bring a conclusion of which she had been unaware for some time to the surface. Meanwhile, Shepard and Liara’s conversation had taken a similar turn.

“… so then I called him a ‘Big Stupid Jellyfish’ and stormed out with Javik. The look on everybody’s face… priceless.”

Liara shook her head with amusement as she covered her mouth, the laughter from the story threatening to forcibly remove her drink from her mouth.

“Oh shepard… you never cease to amuse.”

“Thank-you, thank-you. I try, you know. To be amusing. So, what brings you here with Traynor?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on Liara, I know you don’t normally go out. I feel like you spend most of your nights in with either a book or some top secret report or the other which could destabilize the entire galaxy.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liara’s indigo blush gave away that, not only did she know exactly what Shepard was talking about, but knew that he was entirely correct.

“So, given how obvious it is that I’m right, what exactly brings you out with Ms. Traynor?”

“She… invited, me out. Rather than being as reclusive as I normally am, I figured there’s no harm in letting myself live a little bit.”

John’s skeptical squint told Liara just how much he was buying of her story, and she suspected it amounted to an unfortunately small amount. Suddenly, his face turned into a wide Grin, and he shook his head while endearingly clapping Liara on the shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll grill you about this later.”

Looking to the rest of the table,  John continued.

“Anybody up for more dancing?”

Zakera Ward, Outside of _Coming Home,_ 0210

The four friends had poured themselves down onto a bench after the club had closed, the stream of pairs and partners scattering, some looking for more activities before calling it a night, others heading straight back to their homes. A steady stream of blue and black uniforms was flowing back towards the barracks, a collection of young men and women, faces flushed from the excitement of the evening, untested and untried by the trials they couldn’t conceive of that were waiting for them. As sailors and marines have always done they traveled in groups of three to five, wildly gesturing and gesticulating as they told stories from their first tour of the night club. A few were walking with a partner, whether they walked in with them or just out, their heads bent together, quietly talking and laughing with each other. Outside the door there was a group of couples, hands joined as one was pulled inexorably back to service and the other back to the rest of their life. There were surprise kisses, long hugs, longing backwards glances, all the hallmarks of the end of a wartime night out. There were some officers and NCO’s among the mix, but they all separated themselves from the group, aware of the situation their rank would put themselves and the rest of the soldiers in.

Shepard had unbuttoned his jacket entirely, a red flush filling his cheeks from both the dancing and the drinks – he had lost count. Traynor had followed suit, but donned her beret in an odd act of formality, the headgear falling off her head at a cockeyed angle which only served to improve her image of a mildly disheveled devil-may-care attitude. Liara’s gloves had long since come off, tucked neatly in one of Sam’s pockets, her face also flushed and a constant grin affixed to her face. While she was not entirely drunk, she suspected that over the course of the night she had consumed more alcohol than she had in a while, and the world was assuredly spinning faster than it should to her eyes. While Tali’s complexion was hidden behind her helmet, her speech was decidedly slurred, the fabric wrapping her suit slightly off-kilter.

Shepard turned to Liara, smiling as he spoke, his speech quiet, as if discussing matters in confidence, but nonetheless slightly slurred.

“So, wait, you’re telling me you two fell asleep on each other? Multiple times?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. A few.”

“And you watch movies together on a couch. The same couch?”

“Yes, Shepard, I’ve told you this before.”

“And drink tea while talking for hours on the Presidium?”

“When I can spare the time, yes.”

“I’m not the only one who sees it, am I?”

Liara looked at Shepard with a slightly inebriated quizzical look, but eventually comprehension dawned slowly in her eyes.

“Well, I thought I did. I thought Samantha was trying to get me to be her wingman, a companion humans have for night’s out of special confidence and friendship, no? But, upon asking her, she said this is not the case.”

Shepard’s laugh was louder than he had intended, and a few people nearby looked over. He kept laughing quite hard, soon bent over and clutching his stomach through the hard chuckles. Slowly, he regained his composure.

“Liara! No, that’s not it at all!”

“Well then, _Commander_ , I fail to see what it is you’re hinting at!”

Shepard shook his head, equal parts amazed, slightly disappointed, and amused.

“I don’t want to ruin it for you. Just… keep an open mind, alright?”

Tali, meanwhile, talking to Traynor, was a little bit less subtle.

“So, you’re telling me you two cuddle while watching movies, lose track of time with each other, and sit oddly close together even when there’s plenty of space? You go out to nightclubs together, arrange breakfast dates, and have spent the majority of your free time on the station together?”

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong with that?”

Tali shook her head, muttering “Keelah” under her breath. When she looked up, she put a hand on Samantha’s shoulder.

“Do I need to spell this out for you, or are you going to figure it out on your own?”

“Honestly, Tali, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

Tali stared Samantha in the eyes as she spoke.

“Sam, you love her. It’s as clear as a misaligned drive core!”

Traynor stared at Tali in disbelief, her brain slowed slightly by the beverages she had enjoyed throughout the night, but the internal dialogue which had been trying to surface through the music and dancing finally broke through to the surface of her conscious thought.

_Wait, what?!_

_Yeah, haven’t you figured that out yet?_

_No… No! I hadn’t! I just thought we were… that we… I don’t know what I thought!_

_Tell me it doesn’t make sense and we’ll reevaluate, but… come on Sam. You know it’s true._

_You love her Sam._

_I guess I do…_

_You totally do._

_Who would have thought?_

_Clearly not you!_

“I’ll leave you with that one, Sam, I think Shepard and I are going to take a car home.”

Traynor was shaken from her internal thought processes as Tali spoke to her. Shepard and Liara were standing next to them, Tali’s arm around Shepard’s waist and his around her shoulders. Liara stood to Traynor’s right, and suddenly she was aware of the miniscule distance between them. She turned to Tali.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Of course. Get home safe!”

“You two also. You coming to Joker’s party?”

“You mean the one at your guys’ place that he invited everybody for? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Wonderful. Good night!”

The two pairs of people walked away from each other, heading in opposite directions. Liara and traynor walked side by side, mere centimeters separating their hands. Liara turned to Traynor, speaking first.

“Samantha, do you… are you…”

The two stopped shortly after starting, joining the group of couples saying goodnight outside the club. Liara, being slightly taller than Samantha, looked down slightly as the two looked into each-other’s eyes, neither being aware – and certainly not acknowledging – the fact that barely two centimeters stood between them.

“What, Liara?”

“Nothing. Shepard just… said something to me. And it had me thinking.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Which is alarming. I’m normally the one who knows more.”

“I know, it’s a bit annoying, if I do say so.”

“Is it? Either way, I had just… I don’t know.”

Concern clouded Traynor’s face as she watched the confusion on Liara’s. It was so unlike her to lose her words that the pauses and breaks in her speech immediately concerned Sam. So often had she heard her voice, full of conviction and direction espouse facts which no person had any right to know, that to hear her now so confused and puzzled made Sam immediately uneasy.

Samantha’s face too was furrowed in the brow, Tali’s comments sitting heavily in the back of her mind as she mused over them. Memory after memory replayed in her mind’s eye as she reviewed the evidence, testing the hypothesis against the observations like any good technician would. What she found was consistent with Tali’s claim, from her and Liara’s interactions to her own feelings and reactions to Liara, but it was a prospect which was so large, so unusual for her, that she didn’t quite know how to process it.

It wasn’t that Traynor hadn’t loved in the past, there was a string of broken hearts and summer flings behind her which attested quite the opposite. She had experienced her fair share of hook ups and break-ups, of going steady and breaking things off. But through all of it, no matter how much she ardently denied it, her kind-hearted nature to adverse to the concept to let it be put to words, they had never been able to keep up with her. She had dated in college, but they could never understand what she was working on. She had played the field in Alliance R&D, but none of them had shared her vision. For her, work was her life – a character attribute that played as much as a defect as a strength depending on the moment. And for her partner to not be able to keep pace there was a fatal flaw. But here? Here was an Asari whose intelligence and competence Sam questioned if she could keep up. Self-assuredness had rarely been a problem for her, but her own abilities were thrown into doubt in the shadow of The Shadow Broker. And not only that, she was kind, caring, too big hearted for the galaxy she kept together.

Liara had hung her head, the silence in the moments Sam had taken to think ringing in her ears. While she would not describe herself as lost or confused, Shepard’s comments had certainly left her disoriented. Her heart was something she had learned to guard carefully. From the jokes and cajoling of the archeological team to the ruthless world of the information broker, she had earned bruises and scars which had wizened her more than she would like. There had been times, in her younger years, when she had loved and laughed openly. But with Saren, the Reapers, the Collectors, the galaxy falling to flame around her, those times had seemed long past. Sure, her friendship with Sam had grown, and it was one of the most pleasant things about her life on The Normandy, but she struggled to admit the point it had gotten to. She felt odd, a deep guilt, to be building a friendship, perhaps more, hopefully more, in a galaxy so stripped and stained by pain. More than that, she wasn’t certain if that’s what it was. It had been so long since she had opened up like that, short in years but eternities in experience, that she questioned even what she was feeling. Liara didn’t like not feeling.

Traynor looked up at the Asari, Liara’s head bowed as her eyes were closed in thought.

“Liara?”

“Yes, Samantha?”

“I have a question.”

“I think I do too.”

Traynor steeled herself. _Three breathes, then ask, Sam. You need to know, now. After what Tali said… there can be no more room for doubt._

The two spoke over each other.

“Liara, is there anything between us?”

“Samantha, are you interested in me?”

The two took a step back, the shock at the similarity of their questions obvious in their surprise. Liara spoke first.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“Sam, please?”

Samatha sighed, taking a deep breath.

“Alright. Liara, is there anything between us? Like, not friends? Beyond… friends?”

Two cerulean eyes looked at Samantha, the human’s face quivering as the stress of the question, and the risk of the answer – both affirmative and negative – hung in the air over her head. Liara’s face broke into a smile, not as wide nor as joyous as Samantha would have hoped for, but open, vulnerable, honest. The reply was honest, tentative.

“You know, Sam, I’ve been asking myself the same thing. To be honest, I don’t know. I’ve never been good at dealing with things, feelings, like this. But were I to guess, I would say yes, there is.”

A breath of relief came from Sam, who was surprised to learn that she had even been holding it. She looked at Liara, an immediate flame lit inside her heart once the caution was paid off. She felt the heat of joy and love grow inside her chest, her mind hopelessly trying to temper it with the voice of reason, but the warmth spread through her nonetheless. She realized just how long it had been developing, the relief of hearing Liara’s response releasing the emotional tension within her like a bow string. Her smile was open, wider than her mouth could comfortably form, and her eyes lit up, sparkling with the image of Liara in front of her.

With little notice she jumped forwards, her hands behind Liara’s head. She pulled her in for a kiss. Liara squeaked softly in surprise, not ready for the reaction, her body tensing as she felt Sam pull her forwards. In a fraction of a second Liara relaxed into it, taking notice of the smooth texture of Sam’s lips on hers, the warmth of them, the sweet taste they left.

Not a second later Samantha released Liara, opening her eyes as she panted, out of breath. Liara blinked a few times in surprise, her mouth agape with shock before forming into a bashful smile, her cheeks becoming the color of oceans as she recovered what bits of her composure she could. Traynor’s cheeks were flushed as she spoke.

A few young recruits in the background hooted and cheered, Traynor smiled and laughed as she turned to them and waved, one of them mounting a park bench and yelling “Oo’rah!” as loud as he could before his comrades, laughing, pulled him down.

“You know, Liara, that’s good enough for me.”

“Clearly.”

The two women laughed, turning to walk back to their hotel, shoulder to shoulder with their hands brushing into each other. Silence sat between them, neither awkward nor comfortable, but pleasantly optimistic. After a few moments, Traynor spoke.

“I know you need some time, Liara, I think I might too. But, if there is anything here, I’d like to find it. Can we take things slow, see where they grow, and keep an open mind?”

“I think I’d like that, very much. It’d be nice to have something beautiful in all this.”

The two walked, chatting intermittently, back to their hotel room. Slowly, their hands found each other, just as they had.

 

 

Photos of the Liberty Jacket Uniform: [Liberty Jacket Uniform](http://strainofthestress.tumblr.com/post/163888860298/alliance-dress-class-bravo-uniform-otherwise)


End file.
